This is the first of a series of memoirs centered around my world travels, and consisting mostly of journal entries with some contextual filler to help make a clearer picture of where I was or what I was doing. Other than my 1st 2 trips to Central America in 1977 and 1979, I have kept journal entries for every single trip I have been on. I almost never kept a journal when at home in MPLS; other than a crazy stretch of my life in 1987 and a much more boring stretch when I was working in a warehouse from 2002 to 2007, there is nothing recorded of my home life in journals. The exceptions to this are a few weeks after a trip when I would sometimes continue to write for awhile about my day to day life in Minneapolis but this was inconsistent and never lasted very long..
I graduated from the Minneapolis College of Art and Design with a B.F.A. in May of 1980 after 4 straight years of attendence. It had been a nice ride, the smartest thing I'd ever done. I'd started MCAD with the idea of being an illustrator but soon found I had no talent or passion for it. For the 2nd semester of my 1st year I took a class in photography which suited me just fine. When I graduated I was living in a shitty little basement apartment right across the street from the campus with a bunch of idiots for neighbors. Now I was ready for an adventure.
I don't remember when I exactly got the idea to go to South America but it must have been in my mind around the time I graduated. I was free now and wanted to pursue some photography. I had already started experimenting with a style of night photography that I found interesting. When I was in college, there were a lot of wannabe's and downright con artist's who I felt used the "fine arts" as an excuse to hide either their lack of talent or lack of patience to get where they wanted to be.
I used my disenchantment to fuel this style of night photography which was ostensibly a type of documentary photography but was really more about perception than anything else. I wanted to do some work that would amount to a private joke I guess. I think the idea for this "joke" started early in college. I remember the students who would dress weird or always listen to the "right" FM radio station and talk the politically correct patter in the fine arts vocabulary au currant in the college and I did not like these people. I felt they were phonies and obsessed with proving what "rebels" they were when in fact they had failed to recognize that they were as much dumb-fuck red necks with their own uniforms as the people they supposed to despise. Everyone in the fine arts seemed to think they were the ultimate iconoclast when in fact they were middle class people with middle class values and simply wore a different uniform then their parents; they talked, didn't walk it. They liked to think of themselves as the hero of "The Fountainhead" with the smartest and tallest building in town not realizing that life is not a book and that demonstrating that kind of ego yields not creativity but just a social pecking order and that was what they got.
My seminal moment for this fine art dipshit type of behaviour came a few years later, in 1985 when I'd won a $5,000 grant and I and 4 other winners had our first meeting at the Black Forest restaurant near the college. When the meeting ended and we were making plans for our next meeting, everyone but me pulled out nearly identical little black date books and I said to myself 2 things: I am in fucking trouble and fuck these corn fed redneck motherfuckers.
Anyway, I first encountered this type of thinking in a film history class during my first year at MCAD, 1976, taught by this really cool guy whose name I can't remember. He wore a black floppy fedora and a cape but his head was in the right place. In out first class this teacher brought out John Ford's, "The Searchers", starring John Wayne and half the class broke out in groans. They didn't like cowboys movies or John Wayne. They preferred avant-garde films where people did dumbshit stuff like "dealing with a space", soundless music or a slow pan of nothing that took 15 minutes. It became immediately evident to me in watching "The Searchers" and reading about it in our text book for the class that there was more to John Ford than met the eye.
Later that semester, our teacher had us watch a film in the school's auditorium that once again challenged our perceptions and everyone in the class fell for the teacher's trick hook, line and sinker. We were shown a short film parody of Ingmar Bergman's "The Seventh Seal" called "De Duva". Most of us were familar with that famous bit of fine art film making by Bergman and the teacher, I think well aware of the classes' bias against films like "The Searchers" set out to teach us a lesson. He told us we were going to see "The Seventh Seal". I started laughing almost right away as the film started but the students, wholly taken in, didn't understand what I was laughing at and I can remember a few of them turning and giving me unfriendly glances at my seeming disrespect of such a serious film. Of course, in a few minutes they all caught on and were laughing but I never forgot that lesson of perception and bias and of how it was important to keep ones eyes open.
I must admit that I was smugly self satisfied that I was the only one to pass the test and from then on very wary of many of my teachers and fellow students in the fine arts division at the college. I felt they had everything ass backwards and this is the first time I came to realize how important it could be to have the ability to escape what to this day I think of as perceptual traps. Naturally I fell into my own perceptual trap in never really realizing til it was too late that most success in the fine arts is reflected in the fact that this con artists far outnumber the talented in this world. Success had little to do with talent and everything to do with networking, socializing and basically selling tons of bullshit.
Another pereptual awakening in this vein of thought was the 1979 release of the science fiction film "Alien". Sometime after it came out I read an article about "Alien" that basically painted the film as the same type of perceptual trap that delighted my film teacher and John Ford. I realized that their were others out there like me who hated the fine art pretensions of people that relegated mainstream film, literature and the like to an undeserved place as an idiot's dream. John Ford and Ridley Scott, the director of "Alien" seemed to enjoy putting in subtle underlying themes and visuals into what were ostensibly dismissed as stupid movies in such a way as to totally sucker in the cognoscenti I had grown so wary of in college.
This idea appealed to me immensely and so I set out to make a body of photographic work that basically lookied stupid and shallow in exactly the way that I know many in the fine arts would be dismissive of. It was my little private joke. I made photos of car washes and empty parking lots at dusk that had lots of weird stuff in them that guaranteed I was utterly in control when it came to perceptually manipulating the viewer of my photos. By weird stuff I mean that I would put colors together in such a way that they would seem to vibrate where they met and I would use colors that tend to recede and others to come forward on real objects whose perspective would be the opposite; these were tricks I learned in my color theory class and in illustration classes. Sometimes illustrators use colors to add to depth perception but I would use them backwards in my photos. When one looked at my photos your eyeballs were under my control; something was going on but the viewer didn't know what. This is a kind of boring story but if you understand this about how my mind worked then you understand a great deal about me. Basically I hated bullshitters and I separated the world into those who were for real and those who were not. I'm not sure what good this ever did me but it was how my mind worked. I was a smartass shit who didn't like people who keyed on the idea of being better than others without at least doing something "real" to deserve it. I guess I'm saying that I didn't mind people being cocky if they had a reason to be so. To me, deserving to strut around had nothing to do with having nice clothes or a nice house or money. To me those were shallow considerations and there were plenty of people who fit that bill - nothing to get in a tizzy about. I knew I only had one life and I wanted it to be different, unique in a way I could be proud of.
When I travelled for example I wanted to do it in a way that was "real" and not just fun but FUN. What does "real" mean? I wanted to learn the languages, spent a good amount of time getting to know the culture and not flop down in some white trash resort for a week. I had a hankering for far horizons, far places where I could test my spirit and maybe learn something about myself. My thinking was provincial in it's own way I guess but when it came to living life I can genuinely say that I have done it my way and had a great time doing it. For some reason it was important to me to have an authentic good time as opposed to some watered down, eyes shut type of experience whatever that means.
So, in that summer of 1980 after graduation a plan gradually dawned on my where I would go to Brazil for 4 or 5 months. I wanted a couple of new 35mm cameras for commercial travel shots and a medium format camera for my fine art work. I began to save money but it was slow going. I spent money on nothing and put away every cent I could get. Naturally it was all through selling weed. I had never had a job and supported myself for 4 years of college selling and I never intended in having a job per se. My only ideas were vague; I wanted to have some fun traveling in weird places, take some nice shots, and hopefully build a body of work for some gallery exhibitions.
I had gotten a taste for travel in Latin America in 1977 when I'd spent the entire summer after my first year in college in Central America and had gone back for the summer of 1979 after my 3rd year. My plan for Brazil first focused on spending 2 months in Rio de Janeiro and then making a circle for 2 months around the country up the coast, up the Amazon river and then circling back down to Rio for my flight out to Guatemala. There, I would spend a month with a view towards climbing volcanos. I distinctly remember thinking to myself that if I could do this and come out unscathed that it would be something of an accomplishment. That was the general plan that would later see some wonderful changes and add ons.
1976, the year I started at MCAD saw some big changes for me from the time when I graduated in 1980. I'd been in living with a woman I was in love with when I started school at the age of 22. We'd been living together since I was 19 and she was 16 and she was part of the old crowd from the neighborhood. MCAD was in my old neighborhook, 3 blocks from St. Stephen's catholic school I'd attended from 4th to 8th grade and less than a mile from the house I grew up in from age 9 to 19. I'd been selling weed for a living ever since 1973 when I was 18 and still living at my mother's house. 1973 was my last full year in that house and late in the summer of 1974 I moved into an apt. a block away on the corner of 26th and Garfield in south Minneapolis with Debbie. I continued to sell weed right through college and for many years thereafter; having a regular job wasn't in the cards for me, not if I could help it.
The cops knew I was selling out of that apt. but there wasn't much they could do about it without having a narc making a buy from me and that wasn't going to happen. I only sold to people I knew or who had a proper introduction and anyway, almost everyone was my age, 19, or a little younger or older and there weren't any narcs that young. I knew the cops were onto me cuz an ex-teacher at the Loring-Nicollet freeschool did ride alongs with the police and they had mentioned the traffic in my place to him and he told someone to warn me. Also, there was a cop who lived right across the street from my building and would sit out on his balcony and watch the traffic going into my building which was considerable at times and that ex-teacher had mentioned him as well. It wasn't all that common but I remember days when 15 or 16 people would come by for a bag of weed. I was young and invulnerable; I wasn't sweating it although I remember being quite paranoid about the dealing thing when I still lived at my mothers.
The cops had sent a narc over to my mothers house to make a buy from me when I still lived there but I knew he was a narc right of the bat cuz he had no introduction from anyone whatsoever and anyway, that would have been approved by me before ever he came over to score. He was about 24 with long hair and a moustache. Instead of lying to him when he clearly knew about all the dealing out of my mothers place I did the best thing I could have done; I acted like I was totally cool with him and just said I'd stopped dealing. A lie would just have brought the police back from some other direction to bust me but acknowledging I'd been dealing and had quit stopped the cops dead in their tracks. What are they going to do when they think they've taken me in and I say I simply can't help with a bag of weed cuz I quit cuz it was too nerve wracking?
The guys in the neighborhood were a tight group and didn't like cops cuz of the way they treated them. Almost all my aquaintences in the gang of kids I grew up with were criminals, usually burglers, car thieves and fences. Those kids I grew up with in that Whittier neighborhood had been in trouble with the cops since they were 10 and all the cops knew them by name. My close freinds among that group were not out and out criminals cuz they were too smart for that kind of shit and so my close buddies and I were invisible to the police.
Those other guys who always got in trouble with the police were some hard living guys considering they were only 17 to 19 years old and most all of them ended up in prison or so wacked out on drugs that they didn't even know me when I ran into them just a few years later.
My best friend when I was 16 to 18 was a guy named Brett who lived right down on the corner across the street from my mother's house at 515 West 27th Street. Brett was quite a guy, one in a million. Brett was short and wiry and had a nose like the beak of a bird. He wore his hair long like we all did and had a big red birthmark smeared over one side of his face. Brett was a bundle of energy and full of confidence and funnier than hell. He always had ideas about everything that would be unmstakably Brett's version. What might be perceived as short comings in looks by others never slowed Brett down. Him and I were like brothers for that short time in a teenagers life when the summers seems endless and your teenage years stretch out for what seems a lifetime. Brett and I ran together everywhere and had a lot of fun.
When we worked for Neighborhood Youth Core when we were 17, we would pick up our $15 checks on Friday, cash them and buy a couple of bottles of cheap apple wine and buy a bag of weed and set out to find a place to relax. Neither Brett and I ever got in trouble despite out shennanigans which were considerable but there were some close calls.
One night Brett and I were riding in a car he'd stolen, a black and orange '57 Chevy and we were stopped by the police. Quick thinker that Brett was he pulled over as directed and jumped out of the car and went back and talked to the officer. He didn't want the cops to come up to the car cuz they would have seen right away that the ignition had been popped clean out and there was just a hole there. Brett showed the cops his license and they had there little talk and we were let go and away we went, laughing like crazy. You couldn't get away with that nowadays but the cops didn't have such rigid protocols for dealing with drivers in those days.
Another time I remember riding in a stolen car with some other guy I knew, one of the gang but no one I was close to. I don't remember his first name but do know his last, Meyers. He was a little later accused of killing a woman who was my girlfriend when I was 17 but the cops could never get the dirt on him; she was found hung. Lisa was her name, a tall and stick thin red head who was my first real lover. I really liked that girl and our relationship broke up cuz I was acting like a jealous asshole one night. So anyway one winter night this Meyer guy and I are tooling around in this stolen car and he takes a left turn in a residencial neighborhood a little too fast for the icy roads and we slam right into a parked car. Meyer backs up the car and continues on. The funny thing is that the delayed momentum of the impact had caused the parked car we hit to come out onto the road and it was actually following us. We thought that was really funny.
The crash caused the car's engine to blow out a short time later when we were out in the suburbs in Mendota Heights. We abandoned the car and started hitchhiking. Wouldn't you know it but that the first car that stops is the cops and they start asking us about the abandoned car. We obviously said we didn't know anything about it. I don't know if the cops believed us cuz there were so many hitchhikers in those days or what. We hadn't walked all that far from the car although we tried to put as much distance between it and us as possible. Whatever was the case, the cops acutally gave us a ride all the way into south Minneapols and that was that.
Another close call from earlier, maybe when I was 16, occurred one summer night when I was out stealling bikes. That summer especially Brett and I went out constantly up alleys stealings to sell and making damn good money doing it. Brett and I always had more money than the guys in our informal gang of kids who were doing hold ups and burgleries and they were totally confused as to how this could be.
One unlucky Brett and I were in an alley, saw a bike through a garage window and lifted the garage door. I must have set off a silent alarm cuz a yell suddenly cried out in the night and Brett and I ran off. There was another bike leaning against the side of the house, not as nice as the one in the garage so I circled around front and went into the yard; I didn't know where Brett had got to. Suddenly a guy comes out of nowhere pointing a .45 automatic at me and that was that. He made me sit on his front porch and called the cops. I was such a convincing liar in those days that buy the time the cops came I had this guy believing that I had actually been following someone who'd stolen a bike off my own porch and that the flashlight I had belonged to the "other" thief. Anyways, by the time the cops arrived this guy was sorry he'd called them and wanted to let me go. I ran the same story by the cops; they were more dubious but instead of hitting me for curfew they simply gave me a ride home.
I immediately stole a bike nearby and went out in search of Brett and here he comes down the street riding another stolen bike; we were brazen in those days.
When Brett and I first started stealing bikes we were stupid and used a hack saw rather than a bolt cutters which took forever. One summer night we were sawing through a bike's chain and some instinct caused me to look up and there straight above us a woman's head was leaning out from a 2nd story window and silently looking directly at us; naturally we split. Another time I remember being on a 2nd story back porch and cutting through a chain with a bolt cutters while the people who lived there were right there in a kitchen with the window open, only feet away. Brett's crazy fucking brother Mike was with me that night and he and I took turns cutting the stubborn lock but finally got it. I can't believe we didn't just give up we were so close to those people sitting at the kitchen table. One time I came across a chain too thick for the bolt cutter and out of spite I snipped all the spokes of the wheel. Another occasion I saw a bike out on a flat roof of a building while alone one night and used a nearby ladder to get the bike down.
Funnily enough we fenced almost all our bikes through a Loring-Nicollet free school teacher who himself was only 25. He was such a mellow hippie type guy that all these years later I'm surprised that he did that. He sold them off to friends of his as fast as we could wheel the bikes in his front door. We got $20 for each bike and that was good money in 1971-72. I remember having a job the winter of 1972-73 that paid $2 dollars and hour and that was considered decent money. I guess that teacher was a counter-culture guy back then; I still know him and he would never countenance that kind of thing now. Things were different then. I remember a teacher at Loring-Nicollet named Terry giving me some hash for my birthday when I was maybe 15 or 16. I brought Brett over to my ma's house and we smoked it in my bedroom; it was so good we promptly passed out. That's only the 2nd time I can remember having hash that good. One time a gang of us went up to one of their parent's summer cabin at some lake. I brought some hash, we all smoked and we all passed out and there were 7 or 8 of us.
My teen-age years are a haze of acid trips, smoking weed, trucking around, parties, girls and laughs. I was constantly doings things that would have got me in trouble but just never getting caught. Never spent a day in jail til I was thirty and that was when my fuck of a brother Randy passed himself off as me and I got arrested on a warrant by bails bondsmen.
My girlfriend's name when I started school in 1976 was Debbie but it was a relationship never meant to be I guess. I missed her terribly when we broke up. It was a clean break between the two of us after my first year in school but we started seeing each other after a little time. I had moved out and got my own place closer to school at that time. Our relationship petered out after awhile and by the time I graduated Deb didn't even show for my graduation which disappointed me because we'd been so close. I had a few relationships during school but nothing that lasted more than a few weeks.
Debbie was a lovely and good person but we had a little problem with her lying to me about seeing guys early on in our relationship and that was in the back of my mind, especially when some guy called the number of the first apt. we had together in Aug. 1974. That created a lot of friction for a few days. By 1977 we'd been in a different apt. for a couple of years and I was in my first year at MCAD. Debbie happily announced to me one evening that she was pregnant; she'd stopped taking the pill without telling me in order to get pregnant. I was devasted, not only by the fact that she did it without telling me but by what I saw as a bleak future. I was a dope dealer, I had no job skills and was in my first year of college. I knew that if we had a baby at that time we'd end up hating each other.
My reaction was neither gallant nor reasonable but it was my reaction. I told Deb that she could either get an abortion or raise the baby by herself. I was not going to see my future die because Deb had got it into her head to make such a huge decision for the two of us. I was 22 and she was 19 and there would have been plenty of time for that but now time had run out.
It was a very sad occasion. I still remember sitting on the edge of our bed while Deb was laying down and crying one day. She said, "I thought being pregnant was supposed to be a happy time." And you know what? She was absolutely right. I saw right at that moment that I was holding Deb back from happiness and that I wouldn't stay with her. I moved out some months later and got my own place a few blocks from MCAD before my 2nd year of school. It was one of the toughest things I ever did. I eventually lost track of Deb but some years later heard she'd gotten married but had not had any children. I have not heard of her in many years but still think fondly of her and hope she has had a good life because she deserves it.
I'd started my relationship with Debbie when I was 18 and she was 15. She was a really beautiful young woman and every guy wanted her. I'd had a crush on her for a year or 2 before we got together. Her sister Karen was also what we then called a fox and together with my best friend Brett, we all went to the Loring-Nicollet free school together. One funny little memory I have of those days was a routine we did everyday we were all at the school together. There was a tiny shed out around the side of the one-time mansion that was Loring Nicollet free school. There was just enough room for the 4 of us to stand in. We'd smoke a joint in there and then snort the roach. That was done by putting the roach between 2 matchheads and then lighting it up and blowing it out and then snorting the smoke. I still smile to myself whenever I think of Karen or Debbie squeeling and laughing and making funny faces when they tried to inhale the harsh smoke.
The summer of 1980 after graduation I just wanted to relax. I'd worked hard for 4 straight years and I deserved it. That was when I met an enchantingly attractive woman named Linda. I had a teacher named Joe who'd been a kind of a mentor to me when I went to the free school. I'd dropped out of West High School in south Minneapolis after my first year because I hated the whole bullshit experience and eventually went to that free school. What that meant was that I showed up to a place, a one time mansion converted to a school, played pool and fucked around all day and got high school credit for it. I even got sick of that after 2 or 3 years and left a few credits short but they gave me a West High diploma anyway because they knew I deserved it.
Anyway, at this time, Linda was a teacher at the Loring-Nicollet free school I'd gone to and I met her at some dance my friend, mentor and teacher Joe had organized for a church he was currently working at. There was an immediate attraction between Linda and I. When she overheard Joe and I making plans to go see "The Empire Strikes Back" she asked if she could come along and that was the start of it. Although Linda was married the marriage was on it's final legs though I could tell Linda was reluctant to acknowledge it to herself and violate it's memory with an affair so I took it easy and didn't hit on her. She'd gotten married when she was 18 and was 30 at the time we met so it was a long relationship for her and her husband.
Gradually we did start an affair. I used to feel sorry for Linda cuz we'd make love all night and she'd leave at 7 in the morning and have to go straight to work while I got to sleep, having of course, no job.
I spent my days in a boring fashion those 2 years after graduation. I'd have some sex, read, go biking, an occasional party, watched a lot of TV. I was a lazy fuck. The problem in those days before cell phones was that the only way I could make money selling weed was to stay at home close to the phone. Years later, getting a cell phone when they first came out was a liberating experience.
The apt. I lived in was a little shithole in a building with it's share of losers. A black woman across the hall used to leave her door open and the most awful smell came out and that woman was a really loud talker. I used to come out and close her door without saying a thing which really pissed her off. One day I did that and some black guy stood outside my door and challenged me to come out; he was a lucky guy cuz I was standing there with one of my machetes from Guatemala but wasn't stupid enough to start anything. On another occasion I was coming back from somewhere on my bike and was riding no-handed coming up the sidewalk to my apt. building and I rode close to two black guys, apparently too close for them. They started making some smart ass remarks and I got off my bike and challenged them. One of them picked up a brick and circled around behind me. The other pushed me down from behind as soon as I was distracted and I awkardly fell over my bike and hit my head on the curb of my building's parking lot. I said to myself, "Fine." and ran inside my place and got my 2 inch 38 caliber revolver. I came running out and put that fucking gun right in the guys chest and said, "Let's play." This guy didn't move a muscle and I grabbed my bike and went inside and that was that.
I lived in a really shitty neighborhood that had seen better days and some fat black woman across the street who sat out on the front steps of that apartment building every single day called the police on me. It was broad daylight during the middle of the afternoon and she'd seen the whole thing and naturally sided with the fuckers with the big mouths. I called the police as well. I met the cops outside and when I told them what happened they just laughed and said, "The fuckers." In looking back it was pretty ballsy for a drug dealer with weed and paraphanalia in his apt. to call the cops after I'd asaulted two men with a gun outside my apartment and I had no permit to carry a gun. What was I thinking of? I have no idea. Today the cops would have arrested me for admitting an assault although I told them I'd brought out the gun in order to safely retrieve my bike. In 2009 as I write this, the cops probably would have searched my apt. just cuz cops do that nowadays cuz they're so suspicious of everything and they probably would've arrested me and taken away my gun. Cops were cool in those days. They're over-trained paramilitary assholes nowadays. Anyway, those cops that day didn't ask to see the gun or anything. We chatted laughing about what lowlifes lived in the neighborhood and they left. Eventually that same gun would be taken away from me by the police years later, a bunch of narcs in fact but that is another story.
Anyway, the neighborhood was going to seed for some years. I had so many cockroaches in that apt. that one day I turned the oven on high, sprayed it with insect killer and then sat in front of it with a vacuum cleaner and scooped the roaches up as they deserted the sinking ship. That's a lot of cockroaches. I didn't own a bed and hadn't had a bed to sleep on since 1978 and only finally got one in 1982, not long before I took off for Rio.
It was around this time right after graduation in 1980 that I met Andy and his girlfriend Liz. Andy and I were to eventually become close friends for a number of years. Another eventual close friend was this guy named Kevin who I met in 1978 because he'd opened a little used bookstore a block from the campus. Kevin loved comics and old paperbacks so we hit it off right away.
Both Kevin and Andy would eventually go on trips to third world countries with me. Those people, all the friends I had are long gone now. They always succumbed to some temptation that usually had to do with trying to do me out of money or dope. It has been a sad fact of my life in Minneapolis that one lesson I have learned is that people love money more than people and their privacy is also high up on the list when it comes to trying to stay without obligations towards friends so they in turn would not have to help others when those others were down. Like they say in the song: "God bless the child who has his own." I never got anything done without the help of others so it was fucked up sometimes and I always helped my friends out whatever they asked.
My goal during the first year after I graduated was to get an artist's fellowship. Artist's grants are a way the state of Minnesota and some few oranizations fund the efforts of people in the fine arts because artists tend to be in harm's way financially. I applied for a Minnesota State Grant in 1981. The grant was for $5,000. At the time I figured I needed about 7 grand to pull off this trip and about a year after graduation I'd saved about 2 grand so I really needed that grant.
I received word from the Minn. State Arts board in the Spring of 1982 that I had been one of 5 recepients of the $5,000 award so I was in and the trip was on. I bought a new Pentax 6x7 medium format camera because it was cheap compared to other medium formats and a couple of Canon F-1 bodies and 3 lenses. I only had to wait for the cold to come and I'd be off to Rio.
The affair between Linda and I had heated up considerably and I was not happy about leaving her and it grated on me that summer. One night, some weeks before I flew to Rio, when we were out having dinner, I talked to her about the difficulty of a long separation in terms of getting back together again. To be honest I didn't really trust women when it came to being faithful in that type of situation and I gave Linda the opportunity to be up front about it. I didn't want to put unreasonable expectations on her. I remember Linda writing, "I.O.U. me." on a napkin that evening and so I felt much better about the whole situation. I wanted to come back to Linda after the trip with an expectation that we either would or would not get back together, the situation resolved one way or another. I could see the potential for heartbreak and didn't want to go through it. Didn't do me a lick of good as it turned out.
As the end of 1982 and my departure date of Dec.28 drew near I became a whirlwind of energy. There was a lot of things to get organized. Researching and testing out my cameras, figuring out a budget, buying film, getting my tickets to Rio and 1001 other details. I remembered how Linda marveled at how many errands I would run in a day that early winter of 1982 and how much energy I had when we'd get together in the evening.
One sign of trouble with Linda came before I even left. Just a month before my departure, Linda moved into a 2nd floor duplex with a woman who turned out to be a total asshole and a source of friction between Linda and I. One night when I was showing Linda a portfolio of my photos I'd shot with the new 6x7 this bimbo of a roommate came in and said how she was a fine artist too and that I should respect her work and showed me some dumbass framed photo of a woman's high heel on the wall she'd taken. I had no idea where this women was coming from; I didn't like people who insisted on that type of respect when they obviously weren't into the arts at all, not with all the time I was putting in the darkroom at the time. Anyway, I hadn't said anything one way or another about it; Linda and I were just sitting there talking. I didn't like this roommate of Linda's named Christy; she was one of those really hot women who seems obssessed by their own cuteness. I got that kind of vibe from Linda sometimes but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt and anyways, as long as she liked me it was okay.
Linda's roommate was a gorgeous blonde, a hippie type named Christy who always seemed to be wearing leotards. She had an ex-lover come to stay at the time I was coming over to see Linda and this guy actually dressed in full leotards. They were weird and not in a good way, politically correct yoga practising, granola munching, karma fucking air heads before the term politically correct was used. Unfortunately Linda liked her new roommate and we had some unfortunate words about her cuz I did not like this women. There was just this friction there even though I spoke to Christy as little as possible.
The thing that caused me the most trouble was a dinner that Linda had to invite friends over and kind of break in the new place like a house warming party. The problem for me was that Linda and her roommate planned this to occur just a few days before I left. I wanted Linda to delay it cuz I wanted us to have every evening together we could seeing as how we'd be separated for so long. I was confused as to why Linda didn't feel the same way; she'd have months to do as she wished with her time. I could see trouble ahead and our last days together were not pleasant. It was trivial shit but I wasn't shy about expressing my dislike of phony shits like her roommate and that didn't go over well with Linda at all.
I moved out of my apt. the day before my flight left for Rio. Just my luck it was an all-time monster of a snow storm and I was using an open trailer to move my stuff. I was going to store my things at my mother's house, the same house I'd lived in from the age of 9 to 19. Everyone was gone from that house now except for my younger brother so, with 5 bedrooms, it was no problem stuffing my things into one. The snow started halfway through my move but the real problem was on the next day.
The storm absolutely shut down the city of Minneapolis and the airport. No traffic could move through the city streets and people were cross country skiing in those streets. My flight was canceled and I spent the night at Linda's and was able to get a flight out the next day. Linda wecomed me with a drawn bath lit by candles with incense burning - nice. We had some fun that last night.
I distinctly remember looking out the window as my flight lowered into an drab, grey day in Rio de Janeiro and thinking to myself, "What the fuck am I doing?" So started a long, weird sojourn in Rio de Janeiro. Part of this weirdness had to do with the fact though having backpacked a couple of times in Central America and despite the fact that I was 28 years old, I'd never gone anywhere outside of Minneapolis by myself; I'd been to plenty of places but just not by myself. It was a strange way to begin such a long time alone. I'm not what you'd call a people person so I knew in advance that no matter what happened it would be as much of an interior journey as otherwise. Even before I left Minneapolis I knew that this would be equal parts a journey within and without, my spirit's reflection magnified by the scenery and that scenery was plenty weird for a boy raised on the streets of South Minneapolis. My first day in Rio was Dec. 30, 1982.
I spent my first night at the Hotel Gloria which is a famous old hotel in a neighborhood called Flamengo in the center of Rio. Between the Gloria and the sea is Flamengo Park which is built on land reclaimed from the sea in the 1960's. I couldn't afford to stay at the Gloria on my backpacker's budget but it was quick and I needed a day to get oriented. This is part of what I wrote in my journal: "My 1st day (and perhaps others) was tainted by my foolish behaviour toward Linda. Rio is humid and the smell of it brought back memories of other trips. It rained lightly in the afternoon and I walked in it for awhile. I came back and watched goofy Brazilian TV and caught up on some sorely needed sleep. I arose in the evening and walked about in heavy rain in my poncho, marveling at how the people dealt with the wetness."
The next day I checked into a much cheaper hotel, the Hotel Turistico, which was just a few blocks away. It was an old hotel, rumored to have been a big whore house in the 1930's and it would be my residence for not only the rest of that stay in Rio but in later years as well. It was cheap, about $3 a night as opposed to the Gloria which was $25 and that was more than my entire daily budget. Later that day I snuck back into the Gloria to use their swimming pool. Met a couple of gay guys from Boston named Barry and Mitchell, who were on vacation there and we agreed to get together later and go to Copacabana for the big New Year's Eve festivities. They were funny guys; when I was up in their room before we left for Copa I saw they had a gay man's guide to Rio that was as thick as a telephone book. We hung out at a sidewalk cafe for awhile and then I went off to check out the New Year festivities. Here's a journal entry:
"It was an incredible sight. For the entire curving beach one could see revellers and lit candles in the sand. Small crowds huddled around concentrations of candles and ritual objects where black men and women cavorted and sang in strange fashion. Some few appeared to be in a trace-like state, helped I am sure, by alchohol, many quart bottles of which were in evidence. At 12 o'clock people everywhere screamed and shouted and hugged and appeared lost in the moment. People danced and capered as I've never seen. There were as many people in the streets of Copacabana at 2 AM as there are in downtown Minneapolis at noon. I was alone but taking (hopefully) great photos in the soft rain that began to fall. I walked 9/10 of the way back to my hotel (no mean feat) until, with utter weariness I finally hailed a taxi. Shortly after opening my hotel room door dawn snuck in and I took 6x7 photos outside my door and slept." That New Year's Day I slept from 5 AM til 10 at night - amazing. I had a lot of sleep to catch up on from all my running around in the states before I left. By the way, those New Year's photos I mentioned, they weren't great, they were shit.
The Hotel Turistico had a very strange layout. From street level it ran back up the side of a hill until it opened out into a multi-leveled yard reached by interior and exterior stairs. There they had detached rooms whose doors opened into the air unlike the rooms below which were enclosed by the main structure itself. Some Brazilians lived in the Turistico permanently and there were also Brazilian vacationers and businessmen who came and went as well as backpackers from all over the world. The Turistico was blue and old with a lot of fragrant, creaky wood although the detached rooms above where I stayed were cement and smooth stucco.
The Turistico is on the same piece of land that fronts the sea as the Hotel Gloria, with only some busy streets and Flamengo Park in between.
At that time, Rio suffered from brown-outs and I remembered how frustrated I was that the air-conditioning was turned off everyday from 7 AM til the early evening or in other words, just when you need it the most. It's close and warm in Rio and to have the AC off when it was needed most was not a happy thing for me. Just wearing pants made me sweat. I dressed in a very casual fashion, always in shorts of some kind with a tank top and that did not go over well in all parts of Rio. I remember once being turned away from a movie theatre cuz my shorts didn't have pockets. What's the difference? A third world mentality. Summer in Brazil is the opposite from the states and so I was in Rio at the start of the summer.
Sunday - Jan.2, 1983 - I rose very late and being lonely and bored decided to just get on a bus and let it take me. An old man at the stop showed me the bus to Copacabana... Towards the evening I took a bus to Sugarloaf and rode to the top in a cable car listening to "Mrs. Robinson" by Simon and Garfunkle. The city of Rio shows itself off in fine fashion from such a vantage. I took great pix braced on a rail and then with the small tripod at sundown. Lingered taking photos a long time. I took a cab to the Rua do Catete and had my first banana drink since Central American. A real treat."
I should say a little something about Rua do Catete. It is a street that starts near the Hotel Turistico and runs at an angle away from the sea for a kilometer or so, finally ending in a spacious plaza called Largo do Machado. It is the opposite of touristy Copacaban and I liked the neighborhood; it was my neighborhood and where I spent most of my time. I can't tell you how many times I've walked the length of that street. I often walked it's whole length as far as Largo do Machado just to walk. As many times as I did, I never really made any friends there. Like I said, I'm not a people person and where someone else would have made many aquaintances I remained alone most of the time. Rua do Catete is a kind of distillation of the real people of Rio, lower middle class mostly with a lot of cool, almost old world type of establishments.
Monday - Jan. 3, 1983 - "Got up late and headed for Catete in my gym shorts, thinking only to do laundry, mail my first letter to Linda and buy some shorts."
This may have been the first time I ate at the Amazonia which is it's own boring, charming little story; charming to me, probably boring to everyone else. I ate all the time at the Amazonia cuz it was cheap. The Amazonia is a classic in it's own right. It was a narrow little place that ran straight back from the street. It had stools at a counter on one side and stools at a wall and shelf on the other. Deeper in it had tables one could sit at. It had this weird menu with about 20 entree's and they were all the exact same price. My favorite thing was call "Frango Assado ao Molho", roast chicken with tomato sauce. It came with french fries and rice and beans and I just loved it. A dessert was included in the price and it was something I quickly became addicted to to the confusion of the waiters at the Amazonia. It was called "pudim" in Brazil - you may know it as flan. It got to the point where I would order 2, 3, even 4 after a meal. I was totally nuts for the stuff.
I loved the Amazonia. It had been there for some 80 years according to their menu and it finally closed, to my sadness, sometime around 2005 or so; I don't know for sure. It's gone now, remembered only by people like me. The same guys who served me in 1983 were still there in 1999 and 2000 when I spent 4 months in Rio each of those years. I have a piece of paper they used to wrap take food with that has it's parrot logo. I have a great nostalgia for things that disappear like that but it's the way of the world. Still, I find it sad. I ate many a good, cheap meal in that place at about a dollar a crack.
Anyway, after I ate at the Amazonia that Monday, I ran into this guy named Riquei who was at a Riotur tourist booth in the Largo do Machado. Riotur is the offical tourist organization for the state of Rio de Janeiro. Riquei spoke english and was a very friendly and talkative guy. He was just getting off of work so we took a bus to Copacabana together and he introduced me to a man who owned a jewelry shop and could cash traveler's cheques at the unofficial, black market rate. In Rio at that time there was the official exchange rate and the blackmarket rate. Though the black market rate was technically illegal it was put up with by the government in practice. Riquie and I sat outside at Maxim's, a restaurant fronting Copacabana Beach, til dusk and I split. I remember going to visit Barry and Mitchell, my 2 gay friends at the Hotel Gloria after that.
The next day was pretty typical of how I might spend a boring day: Tues.- Jan.4, 1983 - "Woke about 2 and got my laundry. Took a walk to the end of Catete and caught a bus to Copacabana to the American Express office. Talked with some gringos there and left to walk Av. Copacabana (Avenida Atlantica actually, on the sea). Had 2 pizza slices and 2 McDonald's cheeseburgers and caught a bus for Catete. Walked to the WW II Memorial (not far from my hotel) for the 1st time and enjoyed the dusk. Slept from 7 til 11 and ate at the Amazonia. It has been a lonely time here but not much more than home is. I take pleasure in a lot of things here. All I need are some gringas and I'd be set. Stayed up late. Do not miss winter."
That's pretty much how the rest of the week went. Although Rio is only 4 hours different from Minneapolis time I had a really tough time adjusting. I commonly got up in the early afternoon. The hotel manager who ran the day shift thought that was so strange that he asked another gringo I knew if I was sick. That manager was an old guy with white balding hair and little mustache and pink face named Senor Antonio. He was a cool old guy and liked me but thought I was more than a little strange cuz of my sleep habits.
This is a letter my mother Angeline sent me in Rio. It was written on Jan.3, 1983:
"Dear Jim, I hope your trip went fine. I received your money from Georgia (where I changed planes). I put it in my savings. It will not be spent. I couldn't clean your place til thurs. eve. The back lot was all snowed in so I couldn't even move any boxes. So thurs eve I finally go in and clean the stove and cupboards. Then left the frig. door open. So we cleaned your bedroom out. Randy vacuumed then Fri I went back and clean the frig and the floors and the bathroom while Randy was home sleeping. He went to a party and got drunk he said. I waited til 3 and went home. Here he was just getting up. Boy was I mad. So we made 2 trips with your stuff, the car was filled to the roof. You had a lot of stuff left. TV is in my room. The weather has been in the 30's. Not too bad. Kind of hard getting back to work with all those days off. Lester (my apt. mgr.) didn't even come and look how clean it was. He told me if I said it's clean it's clean. And not to worry if the walls weren't washed. You'll get your deposit. I'll put that in my savings too. I ask for the 27-28-31 and Feb.1 off from work. In case I go to Vegas. Then I have to figure out what to do with Randy while I am gone. No parties, no Denise. They went to a show yesterday. He said she pd. Every day I think of you and wonder what you're doing. And every night I say a prayer for you to get back safe. I hope you're enjoying yourself. How was the plane ride? And when did you get there? You left in such a hurry I didn't get to ask. So take care and write. Love your Mother."
She's a good kid. Funny how my brother Randy, although 22 years old could not be trusted to stay at the house alone. He's a real piece of work my brother.
On Jan.10 I woke and had had a strange, sad dream which prompted me to write a bad poem upon awakening:
A mantle of stars watches over me. In the night that is clear. Tho' tradewinds falter. I know they are there. And when the clouds scud aside. And the night is hoary. I will count them in my heart. And they will tell me their story. I had a bittersweet dream in the night, just gone. About women who would hold you tight, and alone. We falter to the tune of the chime in our way. And cannot come back in time. Tho' restless for love of a day. To the piper we must all pay."
Then I wrote: "A strange dream in the night inspired memories of things lost - that to which one cannot return - tho' longing to do so somewhere in my heart - jade doors that can open in the night - and spill over before finding their way back."
Told you it was bad. That was my only entry for Jan.10, 1983. There is no doubt that my first true love Debbie was on my mind and perhaps Linda a little.
Tues. Jan.11 - 1983 - Got up early for the first time and left the hotel at 10 AM for Bon Successo for Kevin's business. It was sunny and very hot and the publisher was in a miserable and smoggy suburb. At least I caught the right bus. Went to Centro and changed $200 at 4.20 Cruzeiros to the dollar. Walked around til I was ready to drop. Maybe got some good pix. Got to the hotel about 4:30. Laid low and had a filet at the tavern (Taberna de Gloria resaurant next door to my hotel). Met a nice Australian couple 1 door down. Took a late walk with them and stayed up late. Last few nights very warm, this one no exception."
Now I have to explain what my errand to that publisher in Bon Successo and Kevin's business was all about cuz it would turn out to eventually be a real game changer in terms of my trip and also, eventually, my friendship with Kevin. Kevin bought and sold vintage paperbacks and had put out a Paperback Price Guide through the same publisher who had put out the Comic Book Price Guide. By coincidence, some book publishing company in Rio had contacted Kevin and wanted to buy some Nick Carter paperbacks because they were going to publish them in Portugese but had no copies. Nick Carter was a very popular detective character in the U.S. around the turn of the century and there were many, many stories published in the U.S. in the first half of the 20th century. Kevin gave me a couple of vintage Nick Carter paperbacks to bring down to Rio and bring to the publisher. The guy I met at this place called Ediouro spoke english but didn't want to pay Kevin's price which was $40 a copy, a lot of money in Brazil considering that they'd have to go throught the process of translating the text into portuguese. The guy said no to Kevin's price.
Now in those days there was no internet and even long distance telephone calls were a problem and expensive. Kevin had given me no further instructions or negotiating powers about the matter and so that was that. The rest of the story is this: being a great reader I'd soon exhausted the few books I'd brought with me and so I was always on the lookout for bookstores that sold used books; I couldn't afford new, imported english language paperbacks at the fancy bookstores in Copacabana. While going through the contents of an old bookstore what should I find but a bunch of copies of old magazines with Nick Carter stories and already in portugese. These mags were really old, like from around 1915. Naturally I bought all they had and for only $23 total and sold them to Ediouro for $600. Nice. This allowed me to change my intinerary substantially later on and really pissed off Kevin for some reason but I'll get into those things later.
The rest of that week was uneventful. A lot of getting up late and a lot of long, late walks in the close, still summer nights of Rio de Janeiro, often with my tripod and 6x7. What I remember about that week was a large group of teenagers staying in the hotel who were on vacation from Belo Horizonte who made a lot of noise and stole a vintage shirt of mine from outside my apt. when it was drying. That really pissed me off and led to a confrontation with the group leader but I never did get that shirt back.
Sat. - Jan.15, 1983 - Took a walk for some high palms and stumbled onto the tram and Santa Teresa. Had nice walk, partly sunny - shot the tram. Came down another way close to Morro da Nova Cintra. Decided I wanted some shots from the top and climbed part way up (past goats) but it was late and anyway I figured there was an easier way up."
Those "high palms" I'd headed for were some trees I could see in the high distance from the front of my hotel. It was a grueling, steep climb up into the famous neighborghood of Santa Teresa; famous because the last old style street car in Rio de Janiero ran through it. Santa Teresa was situated on a narrow ridge that separted my neighborhood of Catete from downtown Rio. The street car started in downtown Rio and made it's way into Santa Teresa over the 17th century Arches of Lapa, which is an old aqueduct that used to bring water into the city. It was a crazy ride if you stood on the sideboards. There were literally inches to spare between parked cars and walls and you had to keep on your toes and lift your feet at the right moment if you didn't want to get your legs ripped off. I loved the "bonde" as it was called. Sometimes when I was bored I'd go ride the tram, standing on the sideboards and looking straight up into a dusky sky like it was some type of carnival ride. It was only a nickel; Rio was really cheap in those days if you had dollars. I was only spending 10 to 15 dollars a day.
The next day I started out to find another way up that morro, (hill) from the day before.
Sun. Jan. 16, 1983 - Took a walk past Largo do Machado past Parque Guinle to find a way up Morro da Nova Cintra. Passed through a shit shanty town and ran into some kids who showed me the rather difficult way up. Good views but too isolated for night pix. (I had to crawl on my stomach at one point). Bought the kids Cokes, saw a rainbow and talked awhile. Came down another street facing Catete. Went to hotel for shower and went out near dusk to shoot some guys playing Samba but they were just leaving. Went to Flamengo Park to shoot some people gathered for soccer matches and got some good flash shots. Carried tripod all day for nothing. Ate at Amazonia and went to hotel where some miserable lucky bastard put an egg on my head."
Cariocas are great pranksters and while I was sitting on one of the wide sills of the large windows in the lobby somebody threw an egg down onto my head from a high rise across the way. Needless to say I didn't take it well.
I guess this is a good time to explain how I was dealing with the language barrier. Very few people in Rio outside the big tourist hotels spoke English. I had learned a little Spanish in Central America in 1979 using a dictionary but knew no grammar. I bought a portuguese grammar book in Minneapolis before I left and here is the rather extrordinary way I learned portuguese. Every day I would read from this grammar book, in the room and out eating. When I got to a point I didn't understand I would go back to page one and start all over again. I did this many times so there were inumerable starts and stops but what I did learn I learned well. I was getting around in no time on my own though I had a hard time picking up the Carioca accent when people spoke. I remember one time ordering a Coke and that was the way I pronounced it and the guy didn't understand me. Finally he said, "Oh, co-a-k.", like that. Kinda like someone in Boston might say the word "cork".
Cariocas, which is a nickname for people born in Rio de Janeiro, have a lot of weird add ons to consonents and other stuff not always in grammar books. The most popular brand of cigarettes in Rio at that time were called Hollywood and it was pronounce, "ollywoodgie". A hamburger chain there was called "Big Bob" and it was pronounced, "biggie bwabie". It took me awhile to catch on to that but I had the grammar and a lot of vocabulary down pretty good though I did not have a natural bent for picking up languages.
Mon. Jan.17, 1983 - "Woke late, said 'good-bye' to Phillipe - went to Riotur to get a press pass - failed but hope Ediouro can help. Ate at McDonald's and went to get Ma's butterfly tray but it was too late. Walked all the way to the tram station and on a whim took one for the first time - only 20 Cruzeiros, 5 cents. Great ride through hilly Santa Teresa. Ate at Amazonia late."
Phillipe was a guy who came to stay at the Turistico for awhile. He was from Brittany in France; a stout, blue-eyed blonde guy - the women in Rio loved that. I remember walking down the street with him and a group of black girls stopped and giggled and made comments about how handsome he was. That's a big deal if your a man or woman in Rio - to be blond and blue-eyed. That Phillipe was incredible - he was always with some woman. Personality wise he was my exact opposite - a very outgoing, social guy. I remember him telling me a story about how he picked up a woman in a bar and went back to her apt. After they'd made love the woman demanded money but Phillipe was having none of that. The women and her roommate locked the door and wouldn't let Phillipe out of the apt. til he paid but Phillipe simply busted down the door and left. That was the type of guy he was; friendly but certain of himself and he wasn't going to take any shit from anyone. Phillipe and I got along fine and I was sorry to see him go.
In Brazil one of the things they make for tourists are these platters with the irridescent wings of tropical butterflies behind glass so that was the butterfly tray I was talking about as a gift for my mother. The press pass I was trying to get from Riotur was for Carnival which is held inside a big enclosure called the Sambadrome. It's actually a street called the Marques de Sepucai which is the street where the biggest parades have been for many years. The government, in order to more easily control the crowds built permanent stands along a 2 block stretch of the street and closed the whole thing off like a stadium. If you wanted to photograph the big parades you needed a credential. Unfortunately Riotur didn't issue press passes to free lancer's like myself. I was hoping that my contact at Ediouro where I'd sold the Nick Carter magazines could get me one cuz they were a big publisher with their own stores scattered around the city.
Tues. Jan.18, 1983 - Took a bus on a gray day to get Ma's tray then walked to Riotur to get a tourist schedule (of Carnaval activities). Ate at McDonald's then took a bus to the hotel. Got my camera and tripod and walked to where the (Lapa) aqueduct enters Santa Teresa. Walked a ways then caught the tram down. Walked back up to the first platform (back up into Santa Teresa) then caught one to the end of the line. Walked further up and got pix of Corcovado (the giant statue of Christ). Walked back down aways then a soft rain began to fall. Caught a tram back to the station. Hanging on the side of these trams as they careen up and down the hills is sheer joy. Ate half a chicken and 3 Cokes standing up (there are a lot of sidewalk places where you eat standing up at a counter). Watched soccer replays til 11:30 then went up.
That was a fairly typical day; a lot of running around to little effect. I didn't care, I loved Rio and even just walking down it's streets made me happy and I wasn't in Minneapolis where it was freezing cold. I didn't realize at the time how much of an idiot I was when it came to properly organizing things and getting things done. Still am that same idiot but what can I say? As I am going over the copy and correcting mistakes on this story in Cairo, Egypt in Feb. 2010 I've just come back from 3 months in India where I wasn't exactly clever in managing my time. Some people got it and some people don't. I had my own strengths and weaknesses like anyone else. My 2 biggest weaknesses were my social skills and my total inability to make an honest buck at anything worthwhile. By worthwhile I mean having some kind of career and not some stupid job doing something I hate. Even selling weed was never enough money in Minneapolis to do more than pay my rent and sundries. I made a decent living and almost always had available cash in terms of a disposible income if I wanted to buy something but not enough to save the thousands needed in the space of a year to go on these long trips. I had a restless soul for some reason and liked some things about Minneapolis but the longer I spent there the less I liked it. I didn't get on well with people and I thought the people there were weird in an unfriendly way. They copped attitudes over the stupidest stuff but I figured the real problem was probably me. No matter where I've gone it's pretty much been like that. People think I'm by turns vulgar, stupid, arrogant and god knows what else.
Wed. Jan.19, 1983 - "Woke about 11:30 (what a feat!). Called Jorge and he said he'd help me get a press pass. Brought stuff to laundry and sat up on Gloria Church for awhile - very warm - a little sun. Went to room and slept til 3:30. Tried without success Jorge and went to considerable trouble to find boxes for Ma's tray and my film. Ate frango at Amazonia. Went to room at 7:00 and slept til 11:15. Ate 1/4 chicken standing up and walked to the Amazonia for a slice of pizza. Went across the street to buy me some matches and cigs for Kevin. Went to hotel room at 12:30."
Jorge was my contact at Ediouro, the guy I would eventually sell the Nick Carter magazines to. Kevin liked collecting odd things so I guess I sent him some packs of cigs for a goof.
Thur. Jan. 20 - " Paid my rent up til yesterday - very hot today - mostly cloudy. At 2:00 went to Riotur but everything was closed cause of holiday. Took a bus back and went to find wrapping paper in vain. Came back and hung around. Decided to take 6x7 and 35mm up to Santa Teresa. Not much happening with photos. Walked to arco. (The Lapa aqueduct). It started to rain lightly - went to eat 1/2 frango (chicken) standing up. Got back late."
Fri. Jan. 21 - "Went to Riotur for info on a press pass on a hot, sunny day. Waited til 3 then went to Copacabana. Got my 1st letter from Linda then cashed $100 at 450 Cruzeiros to the dollar. Shopped and bought a black t-shirt for 620 Cz. Took a bus to hotel and left again to get laundry and wrapping paper. Had a banana drink and went to hotel. Cut the sleeves off the shirt and spent the evening writing to Linda. Ate 3/4 frango standing up. Stayed up late."
Sat. Jan. 22 - "Went downstairs around 1 and had a banana drink. One of the sunniest days yet so I decided to hit the Copacabana Beach for some shots. Did that for a couple of hours then went to the hotel to shower then went up to Sugar Loaf. Got back around 9 then went up to eat in the Taberna (Lasagna)."
Sun. Jan. 23 - "Got up late and had a suco (juice drink) and went down Catete for a paper. Sat in a little square for awhile and noticed some busses were really crowded. Since it was around 4 pm I guessed there was a game at Maracana. Got to my hotel at 4:15 and decided to go. Maracana wasn't as impressive as I thought tho the antics of the fans made up for it. I bought a seat for 1,000 Cz. ( $2.10) and marveled at how the people in the upper decks never tired of throwing objects, including cokes, at the people below. This was especially so at halftime when a never ending barrage of paper (a sandal) and pop came off the balcony. There was even one guy who decided to piss on the poor people who could only afford the 200 Cz. concrete tiers. The crowd was in a jovial mood as the home team got an early goal to put them up 1-0 (Flamengo vs. Santos). The crowd chanted songs with some few people waving huge flags, especially the Sao Paolo fans. The home crowd cheered when their team made a good play and jeered and called them faggots when they made a mistake. When Flamengo scored a goal the whole stadium erupted in a paroxym of joy. Shortly after Flamengo scored to put them up 2-0 the disconsolate Santos fans set ablaze the numerous streamers and whatnot they had. From where I sat I could see 7-8 fires, some large. Now I know why the seats are metal and the floor concrete and why no alcohol is sold.
I really like Rio; I wish I could stay for a year, maybe I will some day. But for this trip I have 900 miles of Amazon and some volcanos waiting otherwise I could stay for 6 more months or til mid Sept., what a nice thought. I think I will stay for a year sometime and really get into it. Took a bus back and got off on Parque Flamengo to go eat at the Amazonia. Went to the hotel and later watched a 1/2 hour replay of the match I saw and then wrote a letter to ma."
I guess this is a good time to talk a little about the start of my love affair with soccer, or football as it is known in the rest of the world. Because Flamengo was the name of the neighborhood right next to Gloria and Catete I decided to adopt Flamengo as my soccer team. I didn't quite realize at the time that they were the most popular club team in Brazil and quite successful too. After this first game at Maracana' I followed them all the time in the Brazilian Championship which was in full swing when I went to the game. Maracana' is the most famous and historic soccer stadium in the world. It has the largest capacity of any stadium in the world at 200,000 or at least at that time it did. (Since my time there in 1983 it has been renovated and seats put in where there were none and so the capacity now has been cut in half to almost 100,000.) A giant college football game in the states is about 100,000 so you can imagine what Maracana' is like when it's sold out. The reason it has such a huge capacity is partly that much of the space is just open tiers of concrete. I really had fun that day.
Though my entries may seem laconical and even boring, I really had a love affair with Rio that is not easily explained in terms of events but rather in more subtle ways. I was always intensely aware of the aromas and smells of Rio de Janeiro and of her very close and very still summer nights; as nice as any you'll find in the world. Rio also could yield tremendous vistas as part of the country there is very steep and close in to the city. The view of Sugarloaf and Guanabara' Bay from Corcovado are perhaps unequaled in the world and the view looking back at the city from Sugarloaf is very enchanting. I used to take walks in the hills in a neighborhood called Silvestre. Silvestre was a continuation of Santa Teresa and the end of the tram line. Steep double back roads lead directly back into the city and I used to walk them with the close smell of the tropical forest near at hand. That forest in supposed to be the largest within a city's limits in the world. I had a thing for Rio and it's culture and it's music too. I only had to be there to enjoy it; I didn't have to really do a thing. That happens to people, having a thing for a city. It might hit them with New Delhi or Cairo or Paris; for me it was Rio. What I enjoyed about Rio could be intensely trivial - the sort of things that may be a simple peculiararity of a culture; the way a question is answered in a conversation overheard on a bus, a hand gesture, 2 lovers kissing under a lamp post. Rio was also a very dirty city in many ways and could be very dangerous in terms of assaults and robberies. Sometimes the fear was palpable. I ignored the many warnings I received about such things as you'll see in later accounts and I went where and when I pleased, often exercising my arm when carrying my tripod as if I might have to use it to knock off somebody's head. I am a high strung person with a bad temper and there were times when I might have actually liked it if someone had tried to assault me when in such a mood - to me, in my imagination, it just would have been a good excuse to let off frustration.
Mon. Jan. 24, 1983 - "Had a dream in the night that I'd lost Linda. Once again I walked snowy streets trying to find a woman I cared for and again in vain. Linda lived with some other women who apparently thought nothing of being in the nude. One of them, I think Linda's present roommate, wanted to show me some strange thing that involved being close to her. Since I was also in the nude things got hot but before anything happened Linda walked in and was upset tho she didn't say anything. Somehow I spoke with Linda later but I can't remember what she said but it didn't do any good. Later I learned from a letter or someone, that she had decided to buy a house in Denmark with a man, the better, she had said, to write some fairy tale-like stories. I found out where she was staying and walked through a still winter night to find her. She wasn't there, she was at the store. I set out again and came back several times but no luck. She couldn't be far they said, because she walked. As I was again leaving Ma drove up in a tow truck with Randy (my brother) but I told Randy I had to go find Linda. He said to oome, that Ma had seen Linda in a supermarket. Now we were somehow in a gas station lot instead of in front of the house that Linda was staying in. I jumped on the back of the tow truck as Ma chided me about being cold. The first drive way we tried to leave was blocked for some reason and as we swerved for the 2nd I woke up - not having found Linda. The entire dream seemed to happen during the night time with muted color.
Didn't leave the hotel til 2:30. Wrapped the 2 parcels and brought them to the P.O. only to find that the morons wanted to open them. Had suco B (banana drink) and ate 3 cheeseburgers at the Catete Mc's. Went to hotel - wasted time in lobby - went upstairs, cut open packages. Went to sleep. A wasted, grey, rainy day. What am I doing? Went for a walk at 10 down Catete to (Ave.) Praia Flamengo and Botofogo. Scouted photos. Calm and warm. Took a bus partway back to where I ate 1/2 chicken standing up. Watched Baby Consuelo (a video on TV of a rock artist at the time) and went up.
Tues Jan.25, 1983 - Got up late, went to Riotur - more nonsense - ate at Mc's - took a bus back to hotel. Picked up laundry and got pants fixed. At dusk went up the hill outside the hotel to shoot 6x7's. It started to rain just enough to keep me in a doorway for a fucking hour. Finally walked down to (Ave.) Praia Flamengo and watched a muddy soccer game. Took a long as walk to Botofogo, taking shitty photos all the way, and then when I got to the one good place for a photo the Shell (gasoline station) sign wasn't lit. Said 'fuck it' and took the bus down Parque Flamengo (Ave.) and walked to Amazonia to gulp spaghetti.
Wed. Jan.26, 1983 - Absolutely gorgeous day. Left hotel at noon for usual paper (English language Daily Post) and suco (juice drink) and sat on hot-ass park bench where I decided to go check out Leblon Beach. Took a bus to end of Leblon Beach and got some better 35's (photos) than at Copacabana. Jumped rope and laid on the beach and got a decent sunburn. Took a very slow bus to hotel and showered and put on clean pants and shirt and ate at Catete Mc's. Rushed to Urca (Sugarloaf) to catch dusk - lost. Got some decent 6x7's of restaurant (at the top of Sugarloaf) and weird work area. Took a shot of cable car with 35 (mm). Took a bus to (Ave.) Praia do Flamengo and caught the end of 3 soccer games. At a half a chicken (standing) up.
These soccer games I write of take place in Flamengo Park on the other side of Ave. Praia do Flamengo which is a thoroughfare that runs along the sea side of the neighborhoods close by me and the Hotel Turistico. They play soccer games in the park much like American softball leagues. Since it is a popular thing to do with limited fields, the games are often played til midnight or later. I would go and watch when I was really bored. Evidently at this time I was fond of eating chicken standing at a counter since I mention it so often. I have always been a fast food junkie and so Mc's was often where I ate. I was always in a hurry and rarely went to a traditional restaurant where one would have to wait any length of time. The Amazonia had traditional entrees but it was super fast, like a production line behind the scenes. There are many, many places that are like a local grocery store in the states but much more numerous and they always have a standing oven with glass doors near the entrance. Inside are whole roast chickens which are really cheap and really delicious and they often had no stools to sit on.
Thurs. Jan.27, 1983 - Didn't get downstairs til 2:30. After getting paper I decided to screw the press pass and hit Corcovado because it was another very clear day. Took a bus to the train station and had a nice ride up. Took pix day into night. Caught a ride into town with these guys I met and took bus for hotel. Left for Amazonia and suco and a burger. On the way back cops were stopping and searching cars at random on (Rua) Catete. Very nice full moon on a beautiful night.
As you probably know, Corcovado is the giant statue of Christ one can visit and get really spectacular views. The statue's proper name is Christ the Redeemer (O Cristo Redentor). Corcovado is portuguese slang for "hunchback", used because of the steep peak upon which the statue sits. There is a road up to the statue but most people take the cog-train from the station in Cosme Velho which is a wonderful little neighborhood I later lived in for 4 months in 1999.
Fri. Jan.28, 1983 - Got downstairs at 11 AM and dutifully bought my paper (Bear died). (Alabama football coach Bear Bryant). Another beautiful day; 3 in a row now. I went to that baking hell called Bon Successo to see about a press pass. The guy (Senor Carneiro) was nice enough but lack of a regulation number seems to have put the kibosh on it. Glad to catch a bus for the center (downtown). Ate at Mc's and caught a bus for Copacabana where I picked up 2nd letters from Ma and Linda. Ma's accompanied a letter of acknowledgement at having received my slides, said letter coming from UMD. (This had to do with a group show at the University of Minnesota Duluth). I really hope I make that show, now named the Tweed (Musuem in Duluth) Photo Invitational instead of Minnesota Light. This show has a lot of potential for opening doors. Linda's letter was uplifting (lover that girl). Took a bus to hotel and soon after left for my 2nd trip to Corcovado, this time only for the night stuff, (photos) with a nice, full moon. Shot til last train and got to hotel about 8:45. Decided there was time to catch Star Trek II in Copacabana at 9:30. Fired a last 1/3 up (joint) and took a strange bus ride to theatre where I paid my 1,000 Cruzeiros ($2.10) and watched the flik which, to my surprise and delight was in english. Decent flik, better than 1st. Caught a bus to hotel and had filet piamontesa (at the Gloria Tavern next to the hotel) and wrote this. Clear, warm night, busy day.
This is my 2nd letter from my mother Angeline:
"1/14 - Hi Jim, Got your letter finally. I was getting worried. Your letter took 6 days. I hope you got my letter I wrote earlier. Glad you're enjoying yourself. The postcard is beautiful. Well we don't have snow up to our butts, ha-ha. Hasn't snowed since you left. It rained and froze and froze last week one day. So I stayed home from work. Otherwise it's 25 to 40 above everyday. I can't believe this weather. Half of Jan. is gone all ready. The phone co wrote a letter. If you return the phone you'll get $9.50 credit. Do you want me to return it? Also a letter from Dayton (?). Sending you a copy of a letter from Duluth. Marie Dan and kids (my sister and her husband) were over for a while Sun. during the Vikings game. Randy still not doing anything. He went about a print job last week and filled out an application for a job thru the City. That Paul that was calling Randy all the time from the work house is in jail again. He just got out of the workhouse couple days before Xmas. He called Randy one night last week to meet him at (a bar?, indecipherable). Randy was with Denise (his girlfriend) so he never went. Probably a good thing. Linda called one day and talked to Randy to see if you left her keys at the house. Few people say Brazil has the same time as we do but I don't believe that. I'll write over the weekend about your box you want me to send (the backpack and jacket for Guatemala). Steve S. said he'd be over to pay me what he owes. That would be nice. I am glad you got there safe. I haven't got your rent return yet. Maybe someday if you go back again I'll go. Then I'd feel safe. I'd never go alone or just (with) Bill (her boyfriend). Something would happen. He probably wouldn't know what to do. That sure is cheap for one week (my hotel). I still don't know if we're going to Vegas the 27th or 28th of Jan. Randy's birthday's the 27th. I miss calling you on the phone. Some days I say well I'll call Jim and no Jim. So have fun and take care. PS. Paid Sears on your camera. Love you Mother."
Here is part of Linda's letter which I found uplifting because of the way she responds to the stupid way I behaved at her place the night before I flew off for Rio. I had written her about it as soon as I got to Rio cuz I felt stupid about the whole thing. This 2nd letter starts: "1-14-83 Hello and greetings from the tundra." This is an excerpt:
"You may have noticed that I totally avoided the topic of our last evening in my other letter to you. Okay, here's what I think. It wasn't a happy evening and I would have preferred it to be different, and yeah, I remember it, but I also remember the couple nights before that and how good they were, and I think a lot more about that. Jim, I'm not sitting here building nasty memories or feelings or nursing a hurt - I care about you more than one night could change, and I hope you'll just take that and not get into tearing up your guts about it. I care about you and miss you - shit, who knows? I may even buy some new underwear before you come back (not that I'd wear it for everyday of course) I've been nutso busy the last couple weeks - so what else is new? - School starting... getting some of my writing cleaned up and typed... MSAB (Minnesota State Arts Board) deadline is today and I have to hand deliver it, but at least I'm done. Loft/McKnight (a local writer's grant) is over and I didn't win, but a woman I know did and that's an upper and encouraging, both because I'm glad for her and because it makes me feel like sometime I will win. Finally got some stuff moved into my studio - it was hard to juggle schedules, help and truck into 1 day... it's set though and bears a remarkable resemblance to a dining room. It's snowing here, I will lay odds it's not snowing there. Hope your trip is going well Jim. Think of you often - Love, Linda."
Linda very much considered herself a writer and also a visual artist but it was the writing she concentrated on. Her letter shed my doubts and I felt a lot better about the whole thing. Linda's heart was in the right place - too bad it didn't stay there. The grass is always greener on the other side for some and they don't have the heart to give it up. That attitude always struck me as smacking of desperation - a fear of missing out on something. The answer of course is to care about others as you do yourself but mostly to take care of your own life so that others don't have to suffer abandonment because you feel your life is so empty that to snatch at the first opportunity without regard to the feelings of others. I'm getting ahead of myself here. There is more to come.
Sat. Jan.29, 1983 - "Decided to go shopping in Ipanema and Leblon but stores were closed. Took a bus to end of Leblon and walked the length of Leblon and Ipanema and into Copacabana on the 4th clear and hot day in a row, looking in windows and checking out bookstores and eating various deliciosos all the way, and popcorn. Bought a neat shirt for 2,200 Cz., about $4.90, near the gay hangout where Copacabana and Ipanema join. Decided to go to "Deer Hunter" instead of furiously rushing to beat dusk at Dona Marta for closer shots of Sugarloaf. Changed my mind cuz thought the film would be chopped up. Sat in room for a bit then decided to shoot a fruit stand across the way but the guy running it didn't care for the idea. Thought for a bit and then decided to shoot a place where I go in and buy a lot. Went and shot some slides of the place that I shot later that night with 6x7. First tho, I ate ao Molho (Roast chicken with tomato sauce on the side; mmmmmm.) at the Amazonia. When I returned, reshot the slides and then went inside. The guys were real cooperative and I think I got some great shots. Some guy bought me some beers and we had a couple more next to the Turistico. He was weird and difficult to get away from. Went up and read a bit then slept. My 31st day in Rio."
Sun. Jan.30, 1983 - "Got down about 1 pm on a very hot, 38 degree (100) day. 5th straight day of powerful sun. Went to the Botanical Gardens and got some decent pix. Ran into a guy who dives and his girl which caused me to be late to Maracana. After considerable trouble and the help of some kid who I sat with, I sat down to find that the first half was over. In a hapless 2nd half neither side scored and Moto Clube got a 1-1 draw from Flamengo. When I got back I ate at the Amazonia and at 9:30 went to the end of Leblon. Shot a couple 6x7's when they (?) closed then for the second day in a row walked all the way to Copacabana. Didn't shoot anything else. Took a bus back and went up and wrote this day and the previous."
Mon. Jan. 31, 1983 - "Didn't get downstairs til 4 PM. Must have been worn out from running around so much. Went and had 3 cheeseburgers at Mc's and returned to hotel. Sat around sweating and went to see "Mad Max" at 10 after having some stand up chicken. Only partly sunny today, breaking the string. It was 34 degrees out. (Miami) Dolphins lost - chumps!"
I mention the sunny weather alot toward the end of Jan. That was because it was overcast most of the month of Jan. That's why I enjoyed being here for so long. I didn't have to sweat bad weather as a photographer and could just wait it out. Phillipe had told me it was cloudy and rainy in Jan. cuz the trade winds were late that year.
Tues. Feb.1, 1983 - "Grey, drizzly day. Had a suco and paper with Kina and we went to Copacabana to walk around and check out exchange rates. Changed $250 for 465 Cz., had a suco and returned to hotel. We ate at the Amazonia and talked til late."
Wed. Feb.2, 1983 - "Went book hunting all afternoon. Bought "Neutron Star" for 1,185 Cz. and traded my 3 Vance and 100 Cz. for "Flandry of Terra" and Brackett/Bradbury/Sturgeon/Heinlein (short stories). Bought a cool shirt for 1,700 Cz. Ate at Mc's downtown and went to hotel. Talked to 2 Swedes for a while and then went to watch soccer in a very soft drizzle. Went to Amazonia from there and talked to Swedes til late."
Thur. Feb.3, 1983 - "Got downstairs around 12:30. Banana (drink) and paper (Daily Post). Mostly cloudy, some sun. Cool day somehow but it was 27 degrees (79). Maybe I'm growing accustomed to the heat. Went to the U.S. Embassy to get info about malaria pills and shipping volcano stuff. Went to Riotur - didn't get a press pass - sat with Riquei for awhile about Brazil film (?). Went to Varig to see if ticket could be changed from Rio to Lima. Walked to hotel, taoked to Kina and went to Copacabana at 8. Talked at Riquei's for couple hours, talked about film and went to Amazonia at 11:30. Talked with Kina and wrote the last 3 days."
Every time I mention going for a suco or banana drink first thing after waking I'm talking about this place across the street that was llike a little grocer's, but Rio style. They had a little of everything. You could sit at a counter and have a little tiny cup of coffee they called "cafezinhos" or lunch. You could buy milk, get a pizza to go, have about 50 different types of fruit drinks amongst which my favorite was a banana drink. I came to like these in Guatemala. They put milk, water, ice, sugar and bananas in a blender and it was delicious. The Daily Post was an english language newspaper I bought every day after I discovered it. Rio newspapers had no info about American sports whatsoever in those days and that was why I bought it, just for the standings in college and pro basketball and hockey.
A few days before these entries I'd been looking at the map of South America Linda had given me as a present. I noticed that at one point I'd be very close to Corumba, Brazil if I wanted to. Corumba is on the Bolivian border and is an entry point into Bolivia by land. I couldn't afford to do any flying. There's nothing in Bolivia at the Corumba' entry point. There's just a train that's something like a 500 mile journey to the 1st decent sized city which is Santa Cruz. With this idea in mind, I had went to the airlines to see if I could get my ticket changed from Rio-Guatemala City to Lima, Peru-Guatemala City. I knew there was some fantastic stuff in Bolivia and Peru and this was an oppotunity to see it. I'd been very stingy with my money and I was soon to get a windfall that would enable me to not only change my trip but extend it by 2 months.
The reason I'd gone to the U.S. Embassy to check on shipping "volcano stuff", as I put it was to explore the possibilty of having a backpack and warm jacket sent to the U.S. Embassy in Guatemala from Minneapolis. It' s cold up on those volcanos in Guatemala and the nights in the mountains in general can be a little chilly. I hadn't brought a jacket cuz I didn't want to cart it around tropical Brazil. Of course, at the time I didn't realize I'd be going to Bolivia and Peru which can be quite cold. I hadn't brought a backpack either cuz I imagined I'd be traveling only in Brazil and so in a more leisurely fashion. The problem is that when you get into real 3rd world countries a suitcase won't really cut it and that was what I had; that and a duffle bag.
The "Swedes" and Kina I'd mentioned in the last few entries were a couple of backpackers that were doing the backpacking circuit. You meet a lot of people from Europe traveling for months, even up to a year at a time. It's like a rite of passage for Europeans, English folks and Australians. You rarely meet Americans on the backpacking circuit; they tend to travel for a week or two and stay close to one location. When I'd been in Central America in '77 and '79 almost all the backpackers we met were Europeans.
Kina was a lovely blonde and quite a nice person. We hung out a bit and I was to meet her twice more in Bahia (Salvador) and Manaus, a thousand miles up the Amazon.
Fri. Feb.4, 1983 - "Went downtown and bought a Pohl/Kornbluth book (science fiction) - tried to take photos but it was too hazy although sunny. Got out of the hotel around 10 AM but felt tired later. After Varig (Brazilian airlines) I took a bus to Copacabana to get a letter from Ma and Linda. Linda sounded bummed - hope she's alright. Slept, then wrote Linda."
This is Linda's 3rd letter in it's entirety:
"Dear, sweet, dark-eyed James - it is minus 12 degrees and January on the top of it all and I am in the Mudpie (a south MPLS vegetarian restaurant we went to) wishing you were here to share this yummy vegetarian cuisine with me and look over the new Uptown (movie theatre) schedule. (lot of interesting movies - no tacky sci-fi though) Have been reading a little (Alfred) Bester, read "Who Goes There?" (SF classic short by John W. Campbell) at school and we're going to see the new ("The) Thing" (based on 'Who Goes There?') movie on Thursday - have been almost to tired to read at night which bothers me - like I don't remember how to take a break. School (teaching at Loring-Nicollet) has been a shade heavy - some of my very close people there have their asses in various sorts of hot water - year after year folks do the same crazy things and I know you can't tell anybody anything - you just gotta learn through your own heart and blood - still, I wish it could make difference, and sometimes I feel it doesn't. So I go to school, and I go swimming, and I go to the studio, or out to eat with Ruth (an ex-teacher of mine and Linda's close friend) or Sue or Christi, or home and work on stuff there, typing my brains out, 3 million ideas for art that can't all fit into the time I have, and somewhere along in here I think something's got to give - my schedule is just too incongruous for real life. What a lot of talking on paper this is. Shit. I don't know, Jim - a year ago everything was so different from this moment in time, next year a lot of other changes will happen, and while there's elements of that I find exciting, it's also a real sense of fear and uprooting. So much for current mental battles. How are you doing with all your changes and new surroundings and input? Is there a Jiffy Car Wash (one of my seminal photos from MPLS) in Brazil? Does Jack Vance (SF writer we liked) sound the same in South America? I am missing you a hell of a lot this last week, wanting your company and your touch. My additional message area is almost gone - I should learn to write smaller - saw Terry O'Brien (another ex-teacher of mine from Loring-Nicollet) today and he asked if I'd heard from you and how you were doing. Am going to go and do something real artistic and drink tea. Love, Linda."
Sat. Feb.5, 1983 - "Slept very late - went out at dusk to shoot Shell sign. Talked with those guys (workers) for awhile then shot another Shell sign and also some red leaves. Ate an ice cream cone in between and went to hotel - read."
When I mention something like a "Shell sign" or "red leaves" I'm talking about these weird urbanscapes I'd shoot with my Pentax 6x7 with color negatives. I mentioned earlier that it was a body of work I was interested in. I would shoot very kitschy types of situations, always at dusk or at night when electric light would make leaves red, the pavement yellow or whatnot. I kept up this body of work til 1997.
Sun. Feb.6, 1983 - "Didn't get down til 4. Went to Mc's for 3 cheeseburgers while reading the paper. Slept then played pins and ate.
Mon. Feb.7, 1983 - "Mailed letters to Linda and Ma. Ate at Mc's. Went up to La Tour (?) for photos and stayed over an hour til night. Went to Maracana' to see how many people were in line for tickets (for Carnaval in the Sambadrome). Took the wrong bus back, got off in Botofogo and sweated the pins (pinball). Ate an ice cream cone and went to the hotel. Tried to find telephone numbers for Dee Dee (a friend) from U.S. Talked to a girl from Bolivia in the lobby then dashed to Amazonia before it closed. Talked to Kina late and slept."
Tues. Feb.8, 1983 - Wrote a short note to Linda containing numbers to dial me here. Mailed it and walked to the Peruvian Embassy. They were just closing but I got the info. Drank with Kent and Danish guys - (we) went to Lord Jim's (pub). Saw an accident.
Wed. Feb.9, 1983 - "Went to Bolivian Consulate after wandering around Largo do Machado shops. Got the info and went back to Largo do Machado and bought a couple of records. Looked at shirts and cool towels downtown. Before that I got my visa extended for 7,600 Cz. Went to shoot green garage light but assholes stymied me. Just before that I got good shots of a bar/restaurant, red neon light. Walked down (Ave.) Mem de Sa' looking at hookers then went to the Sambadrome and shot (the empty stadium/street) for a long time."
Laconic entries like the last one do nothing to show the tremendous amount of distance I covered. Since I originally wrote the journal just for myself it is often in a type of short hand as it were. When I'm talking about looking at hookers I mean the transvestite prostitutes who parade themselves half out in the traffic at night along Avenida Mem de Sa'. I remember one guy/girl wearing nothing but a black cape and a g-string. It was fascinating to me since we had nothing like this in MPLS. I often wished I had the guts to go and arrange to photograph them but I was too shy in those days.
Transvestite hookers were also all over a stretch of road just up the way from my hotel and they only started late at night. They were all guys actually but made up to look like women. Some of them did a pretty good job but I could always tell by their long arms. Their buttocks were dimpled from silcone injections to make their butt's look more girlish. It wasn't totally unusual to see a guy get on the bus dressed in panties, corset, garters and nylons though mostly they kept to the shadows. I remember one night some off duty cops in a jeep came round and drove all the trannies off. The cops all wore black pants, white shits and sunglasses. It was probably guys like those who killed the street kids some 10 years later, on July 23, 1993 at Candelaria Church in downtown Rio. Some people didn't like those kids cuz they constantly stole and sniffed glue and paint and were a general nusance. Eight kids were killed in the assault which was basically an attempt to clean the kids out. A group of cops were indicted but only 2 convicted. You see executions like that in Rio all the time. A criminal will be found dead in the street with a sign around his neck saying, "I stole a car" or something. Those transvestites ran like hell from that jeep load of guys with good reason. These cops were just conservative, traditional men who didn't like the "new" and permissive Rio. Brazil was just coming to the end of a twenty year dictatorship and some serious repression had gone down; people were anxious to break out and express themselves, especially politically. The economy was a shambles in Brazil in 1983 and inflation running 12 to 15% a year. They had mini-devaluations of the currency all the time. In one day the Cruzeiro was devalued by 30% meaning that if I had a thousand U.S. dollars that in one day I had another $300 relative to prices in Rio. Great for me, bad for the people. Brazil had strict trade controls and in 1983 you couldn't buy a foreign made camera, stereo or TV; they had to be Brazilian.
Thurs. Feb.10, 1983 - "Woke very late. Went to green lit garage to get permission to shoot (some security guys there had put the nix on it the night before cuz it was next to a hooker/strip bar) then walked towards Centro (downtown) and found a good bookstore with old SF and old X-9 (secret agent) pulps. Bought a bunch of Science Fiction paperbacks then went to the hotel after Mc's downtown. Soon after I returned to shoot green light under the watchful eye of the garage goons. Shot a bar that had a domino motif and looked in vain for the bookstore I had visited earlier. Shot a gas station and caught a bus back."
Fri. Feb.11, 1983 - "Visited X-9 bookstore with the two women who wisecracked and looked at X-9's again and bought Galaxy 34 (vintage SF paperback). Went to a bookstore on a backstreet and got "Overboard". Ate at downtown Mc's. Went to Copacabana and got Linda's letter. (I always went to Copa for letters cuz I used the American Express office as my address). Checked for a Sport's Illustrated and bussed to hotel. Took a catnap and Danish guy (Kent) woke me. Went downtown to see stupid parade. Walked to Catete and played pins. No molho at Amazonia so I ate their shit strogonoff. Some of it. Read til late."
Pickpocketing was so rife that Kent used fake cheap wallets he bought when we went downtown in the last entry. He told me several were taken in the huge crowds downtown. This may be a good point to talk about another addiction I was developing - pinball. "Eight Ball Deluxe" was my machine of choice and I played alot. Some of the guys who frequented these pin ball parlours were like magicians. This addiction got much worse in MPLS. Around 1985-87 I'd commonly use one quarter and play Eight Ball Deluxe for 7 hours, winning 100 games. I think my record was 127 games during a single session. I got so good I could spell D-E-L-U-X-E on one ball and turn the machine score over to zero. You have to know the machine to know what I'm talking about.
The following is Linda's 4th letter:
"Dear Jim - it's Monday, still January, and I'm at school - I made today's writing exercise doing a letter - how clever and economical of me. Hope you're getting the mail I'm sending you okay, and that it's helping you feel still connected with me - there are lot's of times I'd like to just sit with you, share a thought or peculiararity that just thwacked though my mind. Went to the Walker (Art Center) and saw the Wegman show before it closed (the last day - typical procrastination outing) - can't remember if you said you saw it or not -it was pretty humorous. Anybody that can spend that much time dressing up their dog really knows how to indulge in the ridiculous and also knows how to find a patient dog. Spent most of this weekend downtown working - I haven't touched my car forever and made some progress on that - did a lot of the parts I've been avoiding like the license plate and Pontiac in those little tiny letters that you can hardly read. And I've been sewing up some very strange bags with thread and stuff hanging from them - they're kind of eerie and pseudo evocative, and make the casual observer think of bondage. I haven't done anything with fibers in a long time and am enjoying it. Hope you're finding some good photographs - I can't imagine that you aren't actually - and that you're feeling the time you're having is important to you. How is the $9 hotel? How are you getting around transportation wise? How are the bookstores in Rio? I'm reading The Demolished Man, and Powell knows that Reich did it - he just has to prove it; the title finally makes sense to me. Is being on a trip alone real different, whatever, from the trips you've taken before? I know there's a difference in focus and time of life too. Actually, I don't know. Tell me about it. Ruth and I went to the Green Mill on Friday - that one bartender looked at me like he couldn't figure out what I was doing there without you, and wanted to know where you were. Have you had any good pizza in Rio? Maybe I could ship you some. I miss you - Love, Linda."
Sat. Feb.12, 1983 - "1st day of Carnival started disappointingly, maybe because I slept late on purpose. Didn't rise til dusk when the sound of music drew me out. There was a bunch of people dancing down the street near the hotel. I took several flash shots then went to the Taberna (restaurant next to the hotel) for Filet Parmegiana (burp!). Procrastinated in my room cause I really didn't feel like doing anything. Just lazy I guess. Finally I left for Sepucai (the Sambadrome), getting there at about 9:40. I got off the bus and went back several blocks down (Ave.) Vargas to see what was what, wearing my black t-shirt and gym shorts. This time I taped on the 20R (colored gel over my flash). As I came back to Sepucai some guy tried to sell me some tickets and got led away by the police for his trouble. I went to the south end of Sepucai, blocked so that you could only see the schools as they came out. I didn't take pix at first, but merely checked out things. The first bit of parade I saw were the people who all wore white tunics and white cloths wrapped around their heads. I couldn't get photos (in the Sambadrome where I wanted to be) so I made my way to a bench, being rather disappointed at the prospects of photography after having traveled so far. Then I noticed that the security guards weren't checking tickets as the people entered the bleacher turn-styles so I got to watch the parade at least, but still no photos. After awhile I contented myself with shooting the schools as they broke up, but, finally, I put my zoom lens on my shoulder and got past the 1st guard and the guy at the street end eventually let me slide down far enough to get good parade stuff. I very quickly developed the habit of pixing up the schools as they broke up; got some good stuff, especially at dusk, but I left the flash on normal. Got good shit and, exhausted mentally because I was there 8 hours, I finally made my way to the hotel about 7 AM. Bought some bananas on the way, ate breakfast at the hotel for the first time, showered, and slept."
Sun. Feb.13, 1983 - "Carnival's big day. I awoke about 4 and went to Riquei's in Copacabana to try and wrangle a way into the parade. No luck and I went to (Ave.) Rio Branco to shoot the parade at dusk. Situation for pix not good and I got better chances for good stuff just wandering around shooting people. I flashed for about 3 hours then went to Riquei's to get him. Hanging around with someone else while trying to take photos was not a good idea so I wasn't sorry to see him leave near Sepucai. I was supposed to meet him but didn't cause I was able to sneak into the parade again. This time the bleachers were packed, but in photographic terms the situation wasn't much better than the night before because the dancers were really packed in and my movements were too limited to really get much; so all I missed were some good float shots. I watched one incredibly long parade. I left and wandered eventually to where the schools assembled. I shot some pretty good dusk stuff. With the 6x7 starting to come around I think my photography is now well rounded and hopefully rewarding. My back muscles hurt all night so I gratefully arrived at the hotel and ate bread, jelly and butter with milk and showered and slept."
Mon. Feb.14, 1983 - " Woke late, about 6 PM, with my sinuses feeling poopy, and I slightly weak. Read a bit then went to Copacabana to see "Blade Runner". Took a bus to Amazonia then went to hotel. Drifted off to sleep with the lights on and the door open and the Danish guys woke me before I went under. Didn't feel tired after that so I read all night and slept at sunrise."
Tues. Feb.15, 1983 - "Last day of Carnival. I got down at 4:15 and went to buy an english newspaper they didn't have. Took a bus downtown, feeling like shit and stupidly went to find Nick Carter bookstore that was closed. Decided to finally take 206 Silvestre bus in Largo Sao Francisco, but it left from Praca 15 so I walked there and waited til, just when I decided to hit the Copacabana bus to the hotel, the 206 came near dusk and went on a nice ride despite feeling gimpy from my cold/flu. Went to the end of the line as the sun set and came back to Praca 15 and caught the Copacabana bus for the hotel. 1st went across the street and had 2 laranjas (orange juice) and talked to Kente (the danish guy from the hotel I ran into). Went to room about 9 and promptly fell asleep. Woke and read for about an hour and a half then went out to eat thinking it was nearly dawn but it was only 2 AM. Went to Mc's in the last throe's of my first Carnival. It was a good experience but not what I thought. I'll have to get into it more should I ever return. I returned to the hotel thru a warm night, and went up and read til dawn. I went up to Gloria church in a soft but bright moment before sunrise and even waited for a bus to go up to Dona Marta for a few minutes. I was really glad it didn't come because it wasn't muted enough, the sun, for pix. I returned and had milk and a jelly-butter sandwich and slept."
The Dona Marta I referred to is a lookout directly below Corcovado with the same view of Sugaloaf but much closer. It's a tiny park that is all paved with a parapet where you can stand and look out. In the back of it is a helipad for helicopters and some nice view over the Jardim Botanico and Lake Rodrigo Freitas area. It is considered too dangerous to visit after dark which never stopped me. There were a couple of times when the cops who acted as guards til dark begged me to leave with them cuz they said I'd be killed. I stayed and went up there many times at night in Rio over the years.
Wed. Feb.16, 1983 - "Rose about 4 PM and had a banana/milk and then took a bus for Praca 15 and thence to Silvestre. Racing the sun, I walked rapidly up to Dona Marta just in time. Very nice view, slight fog around Sugarloaf. Took a couple of flash shots of me when I was alone. I walked back in the dark and caught the 206 to the point where the tram doubles back for Santa Teresa. Near there I shot some strobes of myself with the city lights twinkling behind me. I rode the tram to the station and bought some ice cream and played my old friend Sure-Shot (Eight Ball Deluxe). Sat in the hotel lobby for awhile and left for the Amazonia about 10:30, running into Kina who had been waiting for me outside. I ate, she watched, and I walked her partway to her hotel. An hour later Linda called. It was very nice to speak to her. She sounded like we were still in Dutch but my insecure self won't be satisfied til I return and see. I think she'll last out. I always fear she'll get attached to, or just mess around, with someone else. 6 months is a long time. I wrote this this night. Very warm today (as usual) and sunny. Went to bad late."
Although I don't mention it in my journal, on this occasion where I was shooting in the evening up in Santa Teresa a weird thing happened. A cop car came by, saw what I was doing and begged me to come away with them. They said I'd be killed for my camera equipment. They were very persistant but I laughed it off. Neverthless I had 2 open little knives laid out on top of the short wall where I was shooting. A small curious crowd gathered while I was doing flash shots of myself and they would cheer and laugh everytime my strobe went off but stayed across the street from where I was. Never tried to talk to me. Weird place Rio; much more fun and dangerous than Minneapolis.
Thurs Feb.17, 1983 - "Was downstairs before noon today for some odd reason (That's me being sarcastic about how late I always slept). It was clear and sunny and over 100 degrees. I started out by picking up my laundry and (Daily) Post and having a banana and orange drink. Wore jeans and yellow shirt and sweated my way downtown to go shopping for a shirt for Linda. With a sigh of relief I finally gave up on that. I bought Linda and I Donald Duck towels then went to the old bookstore with the Nick Carter magazines, frequently stopping to replenish my sweat. Still feel chesty from cold but I was almost 100%. I wrote down the Nick Carter titles with $ in my eyes. I traded in some SF paperbacks for some other ones. I went to the hotel and changed to gym shorts, and, with my white t-shirt around my neck went to Copacabana to seek english papers and bought a New York Times for a rip off 1,300 Cz (almost $3), then hit the hotel for camera and bussed to the tram station and thence to Santa Teresa. I took a couple of flash shots of the tram with a view, but even more of me. Took the tram back to Carioca (the downtown start station) and went to the hotel and ate filet piamontesa (at the Gloria Tavern next to the hotel). Went to the room and fell asleep. I awoke with a start when the lobby buzzed me for Ma's call. It was nice to talk to her. The connection was good and it wasn't like she was so far away. I learned I didn't get the Bush grant, no great let down. Ma's developed my slides (I'd been sending back) which is hunky dory. Sher and Larry (2 people from the old neighborhood who were now customers) might provide me with some extra money, that's nice. Ma sounded fine, Randy's still an asshole; 2 months is 2 months. We talked about this and that and I went up and wrote this."
My half-brother Randy was a total pain in the ass. He fancied himself a career criminal but was really horrible at it and either got caught or would burgler stupid stuff from a house or store like some statue that weighed 60 pounds. One thing was for sure, he would not get a job and was always sponging and stealing from our mother Angeline. When it came to Randy ma wouldn't show tough love and just kick him out and stop bailing him out. Randy was emotionally dependent on Angeline; when she moved to Las Vegas in 1986 to retire Randy soon moved right there too. I really had to keep an eye on Randy cuz he'd steal my stuff if given the chance.
This is Linda's 5th letter in it's entirety:
"1-30-83 Dear Jim, got your letter yesterday and both packages arrived safely so no cause for worry - it was real good to hear from you, and I hope you're getting all the mail I've been sending - I don't know if the new return address on the envelope means I should send letters to your hotel or keep the old address... and I don't suppose travel time of mail will allow you to answer that question - oh well. You know you don't have to worry about sending me something - if you find a shirt that's 'me', that's nice and I thank you, but you know what feels the best and what I want is just words, notes, that kind of contact - hell, I don't know, maybe I need the reassurance - realize I just went through January in Minnesota and you know what that can do to a person's psyche. Each day I become more and more grateful for the studio - the division of space, having a room to go to and just do my artwork is very good for me and assists me in channeling my energy in a way that's more difficult to do at home where there are more distractions not mention 4 malicious cats... all cats have a thing for pens and pencils) Anyway, I'm enjoying the studio, and getting things done, and having a good time downtown looking at the buildings - it's really been a while since I spent much time downtown, and I'm getting a kick out of it. The Amazon sounds intriguing... also sounds like something that would appeal to you. Please swim carefully - I would miss you very much if you were eaten by alligators and could never share Black Forest (restaurant) french fries with me again... finished 'The Demolished Man', read 'Four Hour Fugue' also by Bester - actually I think I'm done with Bester for a while, and tonight I think I'll pack in early and pick out something long to start reading. I miss you very much. Toots. Love, Linda."
Fri. Feb.18, 1983 "Possessed by greed I went down to the lobby and called Ediouro but was told to call back at 3. Killed time by picking up Ma's letter at American Express (in Copacabana), then going to the Largo do Machado Mc's. Also picked up a postcard from Barry and Mitchell (the 2 gay guys I'd met the first night at the Gloria). Called Ediouro at 3 and was offered $10 a crack for the Nick Carter mags by the older Carneiro who sounds like a tough nut but so am I. Promptly went to that old bookstore that had the Nick Carter mags and got a good deal on 26 of them, but 11 were missing from yesterday. Spent hours there and finally went to the hotel. Slept for a couple of hours then went to the Amazonia. Returned an hour later and read the balance of "Exploration Team" (a short SF story by Murray Leinster). At 11:45 had a Fanta Uva (grape pop), then wrote this. Sunny day, 34, 35 degrees, felt hot. I've had to drink lots of liquid the past several days to keep up. The cold I've had is in my chest, still don't feel 100%. Arranged towels and 25 rolls of Kodachrome 64 and color negatives and paperbakcs for mailing this afternoon."
Sat. Feb.19, 1983 - "Didn't feel so hot because of cold. Bad day, didn't do much. Wrote most of a letter to Linda."
Sun. Feb.20. 1983 - "Rose very late. fiddled around the room and had to go way down Catete for a paper and decided to go down to Mc's. Got back just in time to catch a bus for a game at Maracana'. Bought a 1,000 Cz ($2.10) seat and watched Flamengo beat up on Rio Negro 7-1 after a slow start. From the 39th to the 43rd minute Flamengo scored 3 goals to take a 3-1 lead; of course the fans went wild. Flamengo played the 2nd half in Rio Negro's end, especially the 2nd part. I did a deucedly stuupid thing trying to return to the hotel in taking the lo-o-o-ng way to Cidade de Deus. It was a long ride back. I finished off Linda's letter and wrote a letter to Ma and a card to Barry and Mitchell."
It's a little funny reading how I went to Cidade de Deus. If you've seen the movie of the same name you know why; a dangerous place. I always write casually about coming back from Maracana' stadium but it was no casual affair. The reason I'd got on the wrong bus was that it was really hard to get out of the environs of Maracana' after a game and people would frequently get on any bus just to be taken a ways away and then catch another. I knew the busses in Rio pretty well by now but not the ones that passed Maracana'. Every bus was totally full and not stopping. The fans would often hold shut the doors so you couldn't get on both going to and from the game. One time in front of the hotel when I wanted to go to a game they tried that and I bum rushed that back door and crashed right in as they were holding it. They didn't care - it's a game; if you could get on you were on and that was that. There were no taxis to be had and I often had to walk a very long ways to get a bus out of the area. The Cariocas were really funny on the bus, clapping and stomping and shouting and making the bus sway from side to side. The drivers didn't like it but there was nothing they could do. That's Rio.
Mon. Feb.21, 1983 - "Woke around noon on a hot and sunny day. Went out to the oven of Bon Successo and negotiated the price of the Nick Carter pulps. Ran them from $10 to $23 dollars each, an even $600. Went away happy as a lark and shopped the Centro malls. Bought Linda a Constructivist design shirt on sale for 9.99 Cz. and Kevin a towel. When I returned I sat in the lobby; then Kina came back to the hotel. Since their were no rooms, I let her use mine for the night (the hotel boys working the night shift didn't like that); we didn't mess around and I was glad. Very hot today."
I was glad Kina and I didn't mess around cuz of Linda. I was tempted and I knew Kina wanted to cuz she'd made it obvious on other occasions. She slept in just a pair of bikini panties; killer. Selling those Nick Carter pulps was a real coup that would allow me to extend my planned 5 month trip to 7 months. I was ecstatic about that. I didn't think Linda would be but this was the trip of a life time and it had been planned since before I met her.
Kevin was really pissed off that I'd sold those pulps to Ediouro. By the way, Ediouro is a kind of a play on words in portuguese, combining the words for editorial and gold. Anyway, I didn't find out how pissed off Kevin was til I got back. He felt that Senor Carneiro at Ediouro was his contact and that I should not have sold the pulps. My own feeling was that Kevin had shot his bolt and failed and that I had gone out to that steaming hell hole in person as a free favor to Kevin to try and sell his Nick Carter paperbacks. Kevin had given me no instructions if his price was turned down and that was that. It was a nice windfall for me and didn't hurt Kevin in any way, shape or form. Anyway, if I thought I was doing something wrong I'd never have told Kevin; he would have never found out without me telling him. I'd left 10 or 12 bags of weed with Kevin before I left for him to sell; Kevin would have access to weed and make a little on any he sold and he liked the idea. When I came back he refused to talk to me on the phone and hung up. I said to myself, "Fuck that; this guy owes me money." Kevin had some idea that he was due to keep my money just because I'd sold those magazines. Kevin was surprised to see me show up hopping mad and determined at his front door less than an hour after he'd hung up on me. I wasn't taking "no" for an answer and he let me in and we eventually smoothed things over but I never really did get that money back. First of all, Kevin claimed that he'd had the weed stolen from his hotel room when he was at a comic convention somewhere. I've been in the business a long time and I knew he was lying but as long as he agreed to pay me I let it slide; he never did.
What eventually happened is that it's 2 and a half years later and I'm in SE Asia. Kevin and I are making arrangements for him to join me but I still don't have that money he owed me. I saw this as an opportunity to pressure him into giving over the dough. Obviously, in Kevin's mind, he felt he should not have to pay me back and just wasn't telling me. I told Kevin he had to arrive in Singapore with my dough or he wasn't coming. Kevin and I had gone to Guatemala together in Nov. of 1984 and he'd gotten a real taste for the fun of traveling in 3rd world countries. He also had a scam he was running on Tarzan collectors I'll talk about later that would be well suited to be carried out in Asia. Kevin was an utter Tarzan freak and often sold stuff to collectors. Another reason he wanted to come so bad was that he knew he'd find lot's of Tarzan and non-Tarzan weird toys that he could buy for next to nothing in Asia and make good money on. So I had Kevin by the balls.
The reason I never got the money is that when I cut short my travel in Sumatra to go to meet Kevin's flight in Singapore, he was a week late. I spent the same amount of money waiting for him to arrive as he eventually paid over. There was nothing I could do, I was already there and it hadn't been easy taking a boat down a jungle river and then a high speed ferry to get to Singapore. At least I made him pay for half of the double room I'd been staying in. To show you what a prick Kevin was when it came to money let me tell you this. I made that guy thousands of dollars while we travelled and asked for and got nothing in return. I was also the interpreter and trip organizer. At the very end when we were in Bali, I asked Kevin to borrow me $10 so I could buy a couple rolls of fims. He said he didn't have it. Some years later he forgot about that and told me about all the money he'd spent buying collectibles in Hong Kong on his way back to the states. $10 fucking dollars. Kevin was like an elephant that never forgets and he took that Ediouro shit to his grave I'll bet. Really don't know why I stayed friends with Kevin as long as I did. I guess I had some weird idea that he'd eventually come around and like me as much as money but that never occurred. He did do me some good turns some years later, however ungratefully, but that is a story for later on.
That $600 from the Nick Carter magazines meant that I could spend extra time in Bolivia and Peru rather than taking that time away from my time in Brazil which I was going to do. At the end of the whole trip I'd spent something like an average of $15 a day so $600 buys a lot of travel in South America. At least it did in 1983. A cheap backpacker's room in Rio in 2009 is 5 to 10 times as expensive if you have dollars or Euros as 1983. The food is still relatively cheap but still at least twice as much as 1983. Guatemala and Mexico are the same way in 2009. Even in 1998 I was spending $30 a day in Guatemala, twice what I spent in 1983. The Hotel Turistico when I checked on the internet just now in March of 2009 was asking $30 a room. In 1983 I spent $3 a night for a room there. Saw a picture of the lobby and I could recognize it but it's changed. The desk is enclosed with glass now, the result of robberies.
Tues Feb.22, 1983 - "Woke about 1 PM and soon went downtown to check exchange rates before collecting my 6 bills form Ediouro. Very hot again. Bought Linda a blue shirt and myself the king towel (a giant towel with a playing card design). Ate at Mc's and came back and showered and washed stuff. Before shopping I changed $100 at 600 Cz. to the dollar. (You can see how the Cruzeiro had fallen 25% against the dollar just since I'd arrived) Paid off 34 days of rent, 54,000 Cruzeiros; that's $2.64 a night as opposed to the $3.35 it was at the beginning of the 34 days. I always put that off as long as possible cuz the Cruzeiro kept falling against the dollar. My room got cheaper everyday I put off paying. Talked to Kina and another tourist named Chris at a cafe next to the hotel til late."
Wed. Feb.23, 1983 - "Woke late, bought paper, then went to Leblon to sun. Sun went behind a hill so I promptly left and walked towards Ipanema to locate a lingerie shop (looking for something for Linda). Played pins then bussed to hotel. Showered then Chris and I ate at the Amazonia then saw Flamengo on TV beat Paissandu 3-2 with Baltazar (Flamengo star) getting the hat trick."
Thur. Feb.24, 1983 - "Went to the post office to mail 25 rolls of slides, 11 rolls of negatives, 2 towels, Kevin's paperbacks, etc. Another nightmare. Decided to take the 6x7 to the amusement park (Tivoli Amusement Park) but only succeeded in aging my legs. Wrote Linda a long letter that night. Changed $100 at 590 Cz. to the dollar."
Fri Feb.25, 1983 - "Back to the post office to mail the king towel, Linda's 2 shirts and my red t-shirt. This time it went smoothly. Visited Riquei at Riotur to get help with Tivoli. We went to his place for awhile, then I visited Kontik (American Express office in Copacabana), no letters, looked at lingerie then played pins. Clouded up so I didn't visit Tivoli. Wrote Kevin a long letter and slept."
Sat. Feb.26, 1983 - "Kina got me out. Went down about 1 PM for a paper and lukewarm banana drink. Kina and I went to Copacabana to sun but by the time we got there it had clouded over. Riquei wasn't home so I went downtown to see if I could find the Rio counterpart to my Bahia (Disney) towel but everything was closed. Ate at Mc's, got to hotel around 4 and directly fell asleep. Woke around 7:30 and wrote in Wed. to now. Later went to the Taberna and had steak Diana, rice, carrots, peas and ham. Not bad, not good."
Sun. Feb.27, 1983 - "Got downstairs about 1:30 on a sunny but hazy day. Took a bus to Largo do Machado and bought a paper and ate at Mc's. Took a bus back and killed time until 4:15 then caught a bus for Tivoli (Amusement Park; I wanted to take photos similar to the Minnesota State Fair Stuff I did. That place is ling gone.). Got in free and then still had to talk to the owner into not kicking me out. The German owners thought I was taking pix cuz I was an industrial spy. Got good pix. Took a bus to the Amazonia and doubled up on pudim (flan, my addiction). Cost 600 Cz. ($1.25) to eat there the last 10 days or so. They raised the price but it's still cheaper for me than when I arrived. Came to the hotel, went up and read (Portugese) grammar about 9 PM and came back down to watch soccer replays on TV. It was always a struggle to watch any soccer cuz the people who lived there and hung in the lobby had to watch their soap operas and soccer was out. Got a grape soda and wrote the last half of today, my 60th day in Rio de Janeiro. It has been an eventful 2 months in my life. Many new experiences - fulfillment of many long held goals, many new photos, my first time away from MPLS alone, my first heat in winter, my 1st Carnival, news of my 1st Film in the Cities show, there'll be more. My 1st time in Rio and South America. Sugarloaf, Leblon, Ipanema, Copacabana, Urca, Flamengo, Gloria, Maracana', Botofogo, Guarana'. New names, now familiar."
Mon. Feb.28, 1983 - "Went down around 1:30 and went to the post office to mail off my albums and Kevin's towel. No hitches and I was off to downtown to find out about a 21 day airpass inside Brazil and getting my Rio/Guatemala ticket changed to Lima, Peru/Guatemala City. Vasp (airlines) said 'no dice' to the 21 day fare and Varig said I could buy it but must pay the $330 in greenbacks, although the next day they said it must be purchased outside Brazil altogether. AeroPeru was no help. Pan American could only endorse my ticket and did so. Ate my 1st Big Mac and sundae in the Largo do Machado Mc's after the post office. All the fucking around made it too late to go to Tivoli so I went to the Turistico. Sat around then went to the Amazonia and doubled up on the pudim. Read "Fury" by Henry Kuttner til late and finished up when I woke."
Tues. March 1, 1983 - "Woke around 11:30. Went and had cold banana drink and got a Daily Post. Bussed downtown to Avianca-Aeroperu-Avianca-Pan Am-Avianca-Varig, which I let change my ticket. Ate at Mc's, decided it was again too late for Tivoli and looked for that Rio towel. No luck but on the way back I found a great Sure-Shot (pinball) and won 2 games. Took a bus to the hotel and figured out my money for a budget. Wrote in today and yesterday. Went down to the Amazonia to Molho-out about 11. Warm night. Came back at 10 to 12 and went up and read a couple of grammar lessons then read."
Wed. March 2, 1983 - "Was out of the hotel by 11 am which let me get alot done. Waited for ice but had a cold banana drink with my paper. Bought a Bic chain and lock then bussed to Varig to get some airfare prices. Bought that Disney Rio towel and ate at Mc's. Went to Ipanema and bought Linda something sexy. Played the rip-off Sure-Shot then window shopped all the way into Copacabana. Took the bus to Largo do Machado and walked to the hotel."
Thurs. March 3, 1983 - "Left the hotel at 9 AM !?. and went and fucked around downtown. Visited bookstores, played pins, ate at Mc's, window shopped, and bought 3 rolls of Ektachrome 64 at 2,700 Cz each (about $4.50). Changed a $100 cheque at 590 Cz to the dollar. In the early afternoon I went to Leblon and changed Linda's shorts for a medium and bought another pair. I returned to the hotel, left again after showering, for Tivoli. The main ride was on the blink but I got one or 2 decent shots. Ate at the Amazonia on the way back. Wrote 7 pages of a letter to Linda and sat outside with Kina til late."
Fri. March 4, 1983 - "Didn't get out til 1:30 and headed for Copacabana for some shorts for Linda. Took a bus to the Modern Arts Museum and watched some Disney cartoons, the same ones that inspired the towels I bought. Walked to the hotel. Sat and napped for a couple of hours and a little after 9 I went to the Taberna and sat outside and ate a pizza. Went inside and watched Flamengo tie Gremio 1-1. Wrote a little, read a little, slept."
Sat. March 1, 1983 - "Woke around 1, bought a paper and bussed to Largo do Machado. Played pins there. Ate at Mc's and bussed to see the museum in the 'Park of the City'. Got there at 4 as soft rain began to fall. Cool stuff in the house which is now a museum and beautiful grounds. It was pouring rain as I entered the hotel so I forgoed the Marx Bros. movie at the Museum of Modern Art and wrote some more to Linda."
Sun. March 6, 1983 - "Went to Maracana' and saw Fluminense upset Corinthians 1-0 in a very rainy game. The Fluminense fans are the most boisterous I've seen yet and they had a new twist: home made smoke bombs which they hurled in the air. A large section of people several times were on their feet stomping, clapping, jumping, chanting; half of them obscured by huge clouds of smoke. Amidst this a dozen huge banners waved and smokebombs emerged, trailing arcing streamers of smoke. It was like a version of the Apocalypse. Went to the Amazonia later on and then finished up Linda's letter and decorated it. Watched a replay of the Fluminense game just after midnight. The 1st replay, of a Botofogo vs. International match had me really laughing because when Inter was awarded a penalty kick the Botofogo goalie capered back and forth in a rythmic fashion that was hilarious. Then to top it off, the shot missed, hitting the post. I guess the distraction worked. I read some and slept."
I should mention here something that endeared me to Rio and that was just a bit of what sometimes were magical bus rides. On a few occasions a bus I was on stopped near couples who were kissing on the street. Every single time most everyone on the bus started chanting out the windows, "Beijo, beijo, beijo" over and over again. That means kiss. I thought it was funny how much of a tradition it was and how everyone joined in. Another time I was coming back from a late soccer match at Maracana' Stadium. The bus I was on went near the docks through downtown and suddenly everyone started closing the windows even though it was a very warm night and I was totally confused. No sooner had this been done than a rain of fish started hitting the sides of the bus. Apparently, everytime a bus with soccer fans comes through that fish market at night they pelt the busses. Another funny tradition.
Mon. March 7, 1983 - "Woke just before noon and finally left for the post office at 1. Mailed my 2nd Donald Duck towel and then bussed downtown. Visited this guy named Brazil I'd come to know a little at Varig who'd helped me with my ticket then went shopping and bought some black nylon shorts for 2,350 Cz. Played the pins and won 2 games. Rushed to make dusk with the 6x7 at the Gato Pardo (a club in Jardim Botanico), caught the end of dusk but it'll have to be redone. Visited Rio Sul Shopping Center and then walked back throught the tunnel into Copacabana to see about a NY Times. Bussed to the hotel. Fucked around in the room awhile and wrote in most of today while waiting for my Piamontesa at the Taberna."
Tues March 8, 1983 - "Went to the Rodaviaria (the main bus station) and bought a bus ticket to San Sabastion Island. Visited the National Museum, saw old historical artifacts then went to the hotel. Found I'd lost cable release so had to rush downtown to get another being for going to Gato Pardo for dusk. Shot 6x7's then visited every place I might've lost my cable at to no avail. Bussed to Largo do Machado and played pins and ate ate Mc's."
Wed. March 9, 1983 - "Left the hotel about 1:15 on a very warm and clear day for the Quinta da Boa Vista. It's in a park-like grounds where the Emperors of Brazil used to hang out. Visited the Fauna Museum which is a large room with all sorts of stuffed animals from Brazil. Then I visited the National Museum. The insects were my favorite part there. After that I tramped around the zoo then took a subway downtown to Pan Am and Varig to see about getting cash for my MCO (Miscellaneous Charges Order - a ticket with no destination). By 7 I was in Copacabana to see 'The Entity', a halfway decent spook flick. Got some popcorn on Avenida Atlantica and visited Riquei to return a magazine I'd borrowed and say good-bye. Played pins near Largo do Machado and ate at the Amazonia. Wrote some more to Ma and watched 'The Bobo' (down in the lobby). Started 'Gladiator-At-Law'".
Thurs. March 10, 1983 - "Bought a paper, ate at Mc's and spent the afternoon at the end of Leblon laying in the sun. All that laying around made me tired so when I returned I slept til almost 9. I walked in the beautiful, still night to watch the soccer games in Flamengo Park. Went to the Amazonia and watched the tail end of a soccer game at the hotel. Finished off Ma's letter and wrote Lester (manager of the apt. I lived in before I left) a card."
Fri. March 11, 1983 - "Left hotel for downtown at 2 and bought 3 rolls of Ektachrome 64 for 2,700 Cz each. Ate at Mc's then changed $100 for 650 Cz. and 2 cheques at 600 Cz to the dollar. Mailed letters at the post office to Ma and Lester and bought envelopes and a notepad. Went to Copacabana to the American Express where I had a card from Barry and Mitchell, then went to the hotel and paid 28,800 Cz. for my last 18 days here, $2.66 a night. Left right away and shot dusk at the Lapa Aqueduct. Met a weird radical guy and talked politics til 10:30. Ate Filet Piamontesa and saw a bit of 'Caberet' in the lobby."
Sat. March 12, 1983 - Woke around 9 not feeling so hot and my legs ached. Went and drank a pop and bought a paper and soon went back to sleep. Stayed asleep til dusk then tanked up at Mc's. Packed my gear and fell asleep about midnight."
Sun. March 13, 1983 - "On my 74th day in Rio I woke at 8 and bought a paper and had a jelly sandwich downstairs. Had an old man at the hotel (he was a taxi driver) lift me to the Rodaviaria for 2,000 Cz. Rode the bus to San Sebastion thru mostly rainy weather and arrived in same. Caught the ferry to the island and bussed to Ilhabela only to find there were no hotels I could afford there. So, in windy and chilly weather I finally caught a bus back to near the ferry and agreed to 3,000 Cz. for the night at the Hotel Neve. This weird old couple who ran the place really liked to talk. The old lady offered to make me a meal for 500 Cz. Being starved and doubting the size of this meal I went next door and ate 5 little pieces of chicken. However the women surprised me by setting out goodly portions of macaroni, potatoes and a 3 egg omelet; with tomatos and bread too. I ate til I was stuffed then sat outside my room and talked with the couple while waiting for mosquito spray to murder the lil' bastards in my room. Finally I went in and read some 'Ensign Flandry' and soon fell asleep. I woke in the middle of the night with a huge thirst and snuck out and had a Coke. Weird creatures gnawed and scratched outside my room all night."
Mon. March 14, 1983 - Woke up around midday, just in time to see the last of the sun. I showered and then querried the old man about how to reach the 2nd (water) falls I'd heard about. I didn't really understand his answer so I headed for the nearest one could see from many places on the island. It was a warm day but not hot, the clouds threatened rain all afternoon but gave only a slight drizzle from time to time. I had no luck reaching the falls; I could see them but after 3 dead-ends I decided to head for Ilhabela to see what was there and to consult a map. I ran into a flipper (pinball) place that had a strange, clumsy, older version of Sure-Shot. When I was looking for a restaurant I ran into George the old Arab guy who offered to give me a lift to the Toca Falls. They were a mile off the main strip and a disappointment, but I swam in the cold water and while clambering over rocks, got my ass bit up by barrachudos (mostly ankle biting gnats that swarms islands off the coast of Brazil in this area). Found the right road to the other falls but some installation was in the way (and goats) and I couldn't approach them. Walked back to the hotel and ate 4 tiny pieces of chicken. Took some 6x7's of the hotel but just when the light was right the battery finally gave out, locking the mirror, and then I forgot to focus. Shot some interiors then decided to hit the mainland for 6x7's, maybe a movie and a meal cuz I hadn't eaten a full meal for 24 hrs. While waiting for the ferry it began to drizzle, turning into a steady rain as the ferry left. I waited on the other side for a long time but while the rain let up it wouldn't stop. I finally decided to walk in the rain when I got pissed off cause I just missed a bus to the (town) center. Sao Sebastao was fucking dead and none of the eateries hit me right so I decided to go back and maybe eat on the island. It was raining real good as I returned, and like a moron I went right back out in it, with poncho, to eat a pizza at a place called Max's. The bus driver overshot Max's so I got off in the rain no knowing it was closed. Waited for the bus for awhile then at last walked all the way back to the hotel. Bought bread, jelly and milk, in a fucking plastic bag, the essence of convenience, and chowed down without let up. I decided to skip this asshole island a day early for Curitiba. Fuckhead island would be a better name. I read 'A Message In Secret' (short story by Poul Anderson) and listened to the rain drip in my bed."
Tues. March 15, 1983 - "Paid the folks off and brother I was gone. Lugged my fucking luggage all the way into town and caught a 1:45 bus to Sao Paolo. Arrived at 5:45 and by 6 was bound for Curitiba. Struck out at 1 am using hotels in my South American Handbook but it was just as well cuz I got a good place at The Condor for 2,400 Cz (about $3)."
Wed. March 16, 1983 - "Woke up at some ungodly hour and breakfasted, then bussed to the center to eyeball this berg. Curitiba is nice, cool and clean. Naturally I couldn't resist a little pinball. Bought a Daily Post and walked for blocks to get yesterday's. Checked out the parks, ate and just hung out. Watched a little Star Trek in the lobby when I got back. Didn't do much of note. Went to a soccer game in the evening in a little stadium sunk in the ground kinda - Atletico tied Ferroviaria 1-1."
Thur. Mar. 17, 1983 -"Sure 'n' to begorrah I had the hotel wake me up at 6 AM and went to see about the train to Paranaqua but I decided it was too cloudy and went back to sleep. (I had come to Curitiba expressly to ride and photograph what was supposed to be the most amazing train ride in terms of scenery in all of South America. The train goes from Curitiba which is on a high plateau to the sea about only 50 miles away. You go through 17 tunnels and over 67 bridges and the mountains are all green and covered in jungle. It's a steep drop and the scenery is awesome) Rose about 2:30 and bussed to centro. Visited the big relief then pinned (pinball) until it was too late catch 'The Thing' and still see the Flamengo game on TV. Pigged out on potato salad, stead and rice then bussed back and saw Palmeiras beat up on Flamengo 3-1. Watched 'The Sand Pebbles' (one of my favorite movies) on TV and read a little 'Plague of Masters'."
Fri. March 18, 1983 - "Rose at 5:30, that's AM folks! and caught the train at 7 to Paranagua. Not as big a deal as I thought it would be but worthwhile. Paranagua was a fucking hole as far as I was concerned and I wasn't slow about splitting. Got to Curitiba in a drizzle and promptly bought a bus ticket to Foz d'Iguassu. When I got to the hotel one of the owners overheard me try to get directions to the Pinhais Shopping Center and offered to lift me cause he was going there too, and at the right time. Got there at 3:30 and killed 20 min. eating a piece of cake. 'The Thing' was a great, gory monster flick; I can't wait to see it again. Bussed to Centro from there and found, after some walking, the restaurant of the night before. Ate potato salad and pressed chicken and left in the rain to find the downstairs flipper place. In Cuiritiba the pins are only 70 Cz. a game (12 cents). Played 7 games then left in a now rainless evening for the hotel. Left a wake-up call for 8:30 and wrote in my journal and finished of 'A Plague of Masters'. Shaved off my mustache my first day here and found chocolate milk in a bottle. Started smoking Marlboro's in Sao Sebastao."
The only things I remember about the Hotel Condor was that it was run by all Japanese and that in going out past the pre-dawn markets those markets were all Japanese folks. The other thing was that their free continental breakfast was a huge buffet the likes of which I'd never seen. I almost never had the skimpy free continental breakfast at the Turistico cuz of the weird hours I kept. Getting up before noon in Rio was a red letter day.
Sat. March 19, 1983 - "Woke up before 8:30 on a cloudy day, showered, ate and caught a 10 AM bus for Foz. Finished off 'Gladiator-At-Law' and started 'Ptath' (by Larry Niven). 10 hours later I was in Foz on a journey that changed to clear blue skies and a wonderful dusk. Got a room at a hole called the Hotel Brasil then looked around for better for Sunday. Paid only a thousand but didn't like it. My window wouldn't close all the way so it was a pretty cool night."
Sun. March 20, 1983 - "Woke about 9 and quickly left. Got a nice room with bath at the Rio Mar for 3,000 Cz (about $5). Breakfasted then split for the falls. Just missed the bus for the Brazilian side so I caught one of Puerto Meira, for 60 Cz. Took a 100 Cz. boat across the river only to learn I needed a visa (this part of the falls was on the Argentina side). They were just being fucking asshole, shit-faced moronic aphids. Walked all over hell to find the Argentina consulate closed. Took a bus for 150 Cz. back to the Brazil side. Nice, clear day got good shots. Got a raincoat they give you and went out on this catwalk that was out in the middle of everything. Got drenched but my camera bag didn't. Went to the hotel at 6 and watched 'A Chump At Oxford' and 'The Land That Time Forgot'. Ate lasagna around the corner. The falls are quite stupendous and there are butterflies up the ass. The weather is great for photography."
Mon. March 21, 1983 - "Left a wake up call for 9 but they messed up and I woke about 11. Had breakfast, showered and got to the Argentina consulate 10 minutes after they closed at 1. I prevailed on them to fix me up a visa tho. Returned to the hotel to change shirts then bussed to Puerto Meira and took the 100 Cz. boat over. 2 busses, 50 and 500 Cz. later, I was at the start of the catwalks. It's very pleasant on the other side but the Brazilian side is better for photography. Spent a few hours walking all over then got back to the river at 7:30. Crossed and returned to the hotel. For 650 Cz ($1.10) I ate at a place that gave me more than I could eat. Beans, rice, spaghetti, chicken, bife milenesa, tomatos - oofta! Quite a treat. Played the pins and walked around. Talked with the hotel owner and some other guys til 12:30 at the restaurant next door and slept. Woke in the middle of the night and couldn't get back to sleep so I was up for my 6 AM wake up call."
Tues March 22, 1983 - "Went down shortly after 6 and ate 2 butter and jelly sandwiches. Left just after 7 and on the way to the bus got chewed out by some soldier boy type for taking photos of formations. Jerk! Took an 8 AM bus for the falls and spent the whole morning taking pix. While waiting for a bus to the airport I saw a huge cloud of butterflies in back of this eating place. Tried to take the helicopter ride over the falls but I had to wait for another person to show up. If I rode it alone it was 30,000 Cz, $50 instead of 20,000 Cz., $33 with a 2nd person. No single showed so I left after awhile. Got some much needed sleep and woke at dusk. Ate ravioli and tuna salad around the corner."
I was freaked out by my encounter with that pint-sized officer that morning. He thought I was a spy or something and was shouting, 'Passport, information' at me. The reason I was freaked out was cuz I had some weed with me at the hotel and I didn't know how seriously this dumb little shit took this stuff. It would be easy enough to find me in what was not a really large town being a gringo. The other weed story is that on the following day, the helicopter pilot asked me if I wanted to smoke a joint with him before we went up. He seemed like he was macho enough already and I didn't want him too high when he was making dips down below the level of the falls into the spray. I had never been in a helicopter before.
My shot that night
Wed. March 25, 1983 - "Woke around 9 and had bread, butter and jelly. Crossed the street and bought a bus ticket to Rio for 8,200 Cz. (about $13) then bussed to the airport to realize at last my desire to ride in a helicopter. Unfortunately I had my eye to the camera the whole time but got some good shots. It seemed like a dream. Afterwards I talked for over an hour this nice old Polish fellow I shared the helicopter with. Missed the bus by 1 minute or so so I walked quite some distance. By the time I got to the hotel I felt like shit, cause of my cold. Slept til dusk then took some 6x7's of a hotel with a car, nice shot. Ate at the place with huge meals and watched some soccer there. Didn't sleep til late. Read 'Planetary Explorer'.
Thur. March 24, 1983 - "Caught the 9 AM bus for Rio. The first half of the ride, reading grammar, SF, was nice enough but the night was miserable cause some asshole bitch insisted on keeping her window open for her 'sick' daughter. I froze."
Fri. March 25, 1983 - "Arrived 9 AM then took the bus, but the slug who collects money wouldn't let me leave by the back of the bus. (3rd world rule mentality. The bus was totally crowded and just to satisfy his sense of order he insisted I pass the length of the bus rather than just giving the turnstyle a turn and opening the back door.) What idiots. I yelled and screamed to no avail, their minds just don't work. Left by the front, boy did they clear the way, and collected my luggage out the back. As the bus left I could see the people on the back of the bus giving the money taker hell. Caught a bus for Gloria, this time accomodating the Carioca mentality and got a room at the Turistico with giant cockroaches for company. (This time I had a room down in the bulding rather than up top in the open and their were bugs in the woodwork) Bought a paper, partook of the hotel's meager fare and dashed off to Copacabana to inquire on changing money and to see if I had letters. Bussed to Largo do Machado and ate at Mc's then had my supreme triumph over Sure-Shot. Hit the bank shot at least 15 times on 1 ball and 10-15 in all. Turned that bitch over 6-7 games. Got almost 900,000 on another. Did just about everything. Nyah-ha-ha-nya-ha-ho-hee! Felt great. Ran downtown but they weren't changing cheques, ran to Maracana' but the windows were close. In between I bought a week's run of the Daily Post. Ran again to Copacabana but this time the suco place (where I changed money) had no change. Rested at the hotel then slept til midnight. Ate at the Amazonia and stayed up late. Good day. Partly cloudy and not so hot as when I left."
As I transcribe this it's funny to look back and see all the stupid little pleasures I had; the pinball, the Daily Post, the banana drinks. It was like a tiny little life I'd made for myself with some semblance of routine. I remember very well how happy I was that morning to get back to Rio and it's heat and humidity, my temper tantrum notwithstanding.
Sat. March 26, 1983 - "Woke about 11 and bought a paper. Went to the Copacabana suco place to change money but they had no change, said return at 4. So I ate at Mc's and bussed to Machado. Bought fichas (tokens to play the machines) before I saw that Sure-Shot was down. Played asshole Hawkmen. Went to the flipper place near the hotel and did well. Won 2 games hitting the bank shot 3 times on one ball. By then it was almost 4 so I went back to the suco place. No change, come back at 8. Picked up the 6x7 at the hotel and went out to Tivoli. Shot the yellow ride from the street side and this orange plastic shack. On the way back to the hotel I stopped at the suco place. They offered 570 to the dollar but I said no dice. Went to the hotel and wrote this. Fucked around til some soccer came on at 11 but the fucking babies downstairs in the lobby couldn't miss their precious idiot made for TV movie. Went to eat at the Amazonia then watched soccer and slept."
Sun. March 27, 1983 - "Rose at 9:30, bought a paper and breakfasted. Sat around for a bit then went to Maracana' to buy my Flamengo-Palmeiras ticket. Had to wait 30 min. for the 2,000 Cz. reserved seat window to open at 2. They don't allow shorts in that section so I bussed to the hotel, showered, changed and went to eat at Mc's. From there I went to Maracana on a packed Grajau'-Leblon 434 bus. My seat at the stadium was way up there. The flag waving and confetti were particularly impressive with fire crackers thrown in for good measure. Flamengo ate Palmeiras up but couldn't deliver the clincher. Palmeiras lucked out when they were outnumbered 5 to 4 in front of the Flamengo goal and still managed to get 2 men free, 1 for the initial shot and 1 to put in the loose rebound. So it ended 1-1 and a packed house went away disgruntled. From there I went to Largo do Machado and won 4 games on the pins. Ate the usual at the Amazonia (Roast chicken with fries, rice and beans - pudim - ummmm. Yummy) then wrote in today, which was a warm and cloudy day."
Mon. March 28, 1983 - "Got downstairs at 10:30 then soon went downtown to cash $300 in cheques at 570 Cz. to the dollar. They have a new law that the exchange houses can only deal on Monday and some apparently not at all. Bussed to get my bus ticket to Salvador (Bahia), 9,000 cruzeiros, $15.78. Walked through Santana park downtown and visited the place where I got the Nick Carter pulps. Went to the hotel and fucked around then ate at the Amazonia on last time."
Tues. March 29, 1983 - "Woke at 6:45 and bought a paper, ate and at 8 left for the 9 AM bus to Salvador. Met a nice guy named Marcos who later that night turned me onto some decent smoke. The ride wasn't as bad as the Foz-Rio ride even tho it was 28 instead of 24 hours and even tho I had to use 1 chair to sleep in. It was warm rather than too cold. A beautiful full moon."
I was very unhappy to leave Rio cuz I loved it there and didn't know if I'd ever come back. That was kind of weird cuz I had no regular friends. That would change during my longs stays in Rio in 1999 and 2000. I guess I'd become much more sociable by then.
Wed. March, 30, 1983 - "Got to Salvador at 1:30 and what a dissapointment it and the Anglo-Americano Hotel are. People who recommend cities and hotels like this must have a screw loose. Took a cab into town part of the way with Marcos. After checking into my luxurious 2,000 Cz. a night hole I went straight to Kontik-Franstur (American Express) to get 2 warm letters from Linda and one from Man. Took the lift to the upper city and looked around, played Sure-Shot and went to the hotel. Changed into shorts and took a walk down Av. 7th of Sept. to find a better hotel but no luck. Ate ravioli next to the hotel and went up and wrote the last 3 days."
I really hated Salvador. The men there had a distinct habit I never saw anywhere else: they were constantly spitting and blowing out a nostril on the street. It was really noticible and really disgusting. I understand that Salvador is quite a different place more than 25 years later but I did not like that town. Filthy place with no charm whatsoever. Nevertheless I had met backpackers who liked Salvador and hated Rio. I understand backpackers not liking a large urban center like Rio cuz by and large backpackers don't normally do their thing with an eye towards cities but to not like Rio compared to Salvador in 1983 is bewildering. Nowadays Bahia is considered a very trendy place to visit and Nordeste music from the region of Bahia is all the rage in parts of Brazil but I don't like it. I like samba and pagode, the pop music of Rio and much of Brazil though each region has it's own music. There is a version of country western music in Brazil that I really don't like but people from those regions grow up on it and like it very much.
I was enchanted with the popular music of Brazil from the very beginning and though I don't mention it in my journal I was constantly listening to it up in the room on this miniature radio I had. MPB, musica popular Brasileiro it's called. Much more top 40 than you hear in Rio today. Today the most popular music in Brazil tends to be Rio based samba love songs called pagode and my tastes have gravitated that way as well. I have a lot of music by Alcione, Jorge Aragao, Belo, Bebeto and many others. I also love the old Bossa Nova and post Bossa Nova sound quite a bit.
Below is the 1st and longer of the 2 letters from Linda that were waiting for me in Salvador. The envelope is dated as mailed on March 11. In transcribing this letter a definite feeling of sad wistfulness comes over me as I have not read it in maybe over 20 years. Considering what happened between Linda and I when I got home, the old wounds start to bleed a bit but at the time it was a very welcome contact from Linda.
"My sweet dark-eyed adorable one (dear Jim) Are you ready for a longer letter? I'm gonna get brave and actually deal with the Post Office on this one - have them weigh it and everything... those little air-o-grams or whatever they're called were nice cuz of their simplicity - good for me too as I felt I was talking to you more often even if it wasn't for as long, but since the but since the lag between this address and the Rio address I feel I've been saving up, accumulating 30 lbs. of news, thoughts, passing fancies or fantasies (whichever you prefer)... so naturally I'm already starting to babble because I know I have a lot of paper.
So Rio and Part One of the odyssey is completed - two months and the trip is taking shape... your past few letters were real good to get - they meant a lot to me and I read and reread them leisurely and they make me happy - what can I say? The packages also arrived safely and thank you for the shirts and towel - great stuff and I will use it all and think of you as I do so... it was - hey, I haven't writted to you in awhile and I'm out of practice (the babbler runs on) but I've certainly thought of you often and knowing you think of me warms my heart. That is a very hokey sounding line but it is literally true... after I talked to you on the phone, when I read your letters, when Ruth asks how you are... it's a happiness and it DOES make me feel warm, (which is different from hot okay?) just a simple bright pleasant sensation. I am not going to try and explain this any further.
As for local news... weather has been great - easiest winter in years - rain and unzipped jackets and open windows, cars that always start and smiles on the street... lots of times there have been days MPLS temp is as good as Florida or CA. The last week I've been wearing my tuxedo jacket (up til today when it finally snowed)...
And now it's Wednesday morning - you are going to get a very disjointed letter here... bits and pieces written over time. I am eating breakfast and on my way to the last day of evaluations at school. We register for spring trimester on Friday. School is going okay - they are into the same thing again where no news is available on summer and if there will be funds for a program then - this year that's okay with me as I would like to take the summer off. I'm not doing as good as I should be saving money for that, so I'll have to get disciplined or something. I would really like to go to Naropa for a workshop (Naropa's a real well-known writer's school), and maybe up to Quadna again if there's a class going that's real interesting. All this nice spring-like weather has made summer seem real close.
So, the first week of March is over and in three weeks my show goes up... needless to say I have been drawing like a maniac. I want to put up between 12 and 15 things - it'll have to be a combination of pencil and ink, and I hope is not too mismatched.
THURSDAY - And speaking of mismatched, this letter goes on and on - the mosaic of life and thoughts and news... I am in kind of a foul mood as today has been less than a winner - this morning we had a rage attack at school; the background on the whole story could get longer than it's worth, but the finale was a student (ex-student) throwing furniture - heavy shit like oak desks, around the area, pitching chairs at Joe and in general going really nuts. It was pretty bizarre. There are times there (at Loring-Nicollet) when I think people have been baited more than is necessary, but this wasn't one of them. So that sort of set the emotional mood for the day, and the physical mood is pretty shitty too - I have some sort of infection which I think is intestinal... got my I.U.D. changed last month (you're supposed to get them replaced every 3 years or so, and I was due), so I finallyy did that, and anytime you mess around with stuff like that you're more fragile or more combustible, it's easier to develope infections and so forth. I figured the chaste lifestyle I'd been leading would make the transition easier (so in case you were wondering about that, my lifestyle has been chaste) but no such luck, and I would up with this real painful whatever - viris (sic) I think, that decided it liked me and would move on in and up for awhile, hence my stomach hurts a lot, and puts in me very nasty spirits. Well, so much for this crap. That's low points that come and go for everybody. Cheerier stuff is that I've been getting a lot done in the studio and feel real focused and happy there. The gas station has come a long way, and I found a method of combining ink and pencil by laying them over each other that I really like both in the visual sense and the way it feels to do it. AND it is fast. Haven't done enough to know exactly how it all pans out, but I think it might be a productive alternate way for me to work.
FRIDAY MORNING - I think I'm going to finish this so it can be mailed while the address is still good. Picked up your albums at the P.O. this week and will just leave them as they are (packed and safe) and store them for you. Your mom has the film and all the other stuff as per your request. Am trying to remember if there are any little details I should pass on - I think I'm telling you everything I know or remember. I haven't heard anything more from Tom at Barry Richards (my gallery) - he said he'd keep me posted on the Film in the Cities show, but I think I'm going to call him again and see what's up. I'll attend the show for sure and let you know how it is. I will naturally leave out pertinent bits of information and you will ask me for details I can no longer remember. Right? I'll do my best, toots.
I say Liz a couple weeks ago and she asked about you and says hi.
Let's see - I was going to say a few more words about the 'art scene in MPLS" - such as I know or sense about it anyway. That's the other aspect about Fort Mango (an artist's cooperative) aside from the studio space itself and the supportiveness that exists there... in a weird sort of way it lends me credibility that I have mixed feelings about because the credibility has so little to do with actual artwork, and as bubble and friendly as I am (you know how I come off) I also really feel a cautious center in myself. As far as goals are concerned, I've been thinking about it a lot, and I guess what I want most is just to be good. To be pushing my own limits and not accepting any rationalizing 'that's okay sweetie, you have tried' shit from my lazy bargin making parts - it's nice if other people, (Mom, peers, strangers) appreciate my work, but what's critical to me is knowing I'm giving it everything I got.
My short term goals are to get new blades for my pencil sharpener and empty the garbage that I've been ignoring for 2 months...
Writing is okay... I haven't been writing as frequently with the amount of energy I'm putting at the show... the quality is good though and I've come up with a couple real solid things the last month.
House is going well... Christi and I get along well as roommates and find each others presence comfortable. Archy (Linda's cat) is still a snot. I'm late for school. I miss you very much and look forward to your homecoming - enjoy the Amazon - Love, Linda."
Although this letter made me feel great at the time it wasn't what it seemed to be. In light of the way Linda treated me when I got back I can say the letter is almost pure bullshit - a good example of saying one thing and doing another - lip service to honesty and integrity. I know that people say there are always 2 sides to a story but that is not true as far as I'm concerned. My head is not so far up my ass that I don't know when I'm being too favorable to myself. The simple fact is that I know the difference between right and wrong. I've had things done to me by so-called friends that I wouldn't do to a dog. There'll be more on this later so that I don't want to get ahead of myself. I consider it unfortunate to write about but it is a part of the story and had a great effect on me that carried through for a long time. In some ways those scars never truly heal. I hope I have the grace to not be too harsh when I come to write about it which is coming up but as yet unwritten as I write this.
The next part is the 2nd letter from Linda waiting for me in Salvador. It's timestamped March 15.
"Dear Jim -Another package and letter from you today, timed incredibly well as I stayed home sick and really needed a lift, and that sure did it. Thank you for the belt - I think it's beautiful, and thank you for the magnificent decorations on the envelope, and mostly thank you for the words - hearing what you're doing, thinking, feeling helps me feel close to you this long time away. You said you wonder how our friendship will be when you return. Hell, I wonder about that too, and worry some; I don't know... but I do believe we have a lot going for us, and I'm looking forward to the day you knock on this door, and can cash in your I.O.U. I miss you very much, and what we share is important to me. Archy likes you too, but it isn't the same. I talked to Tom at Barry-Richards and impression I get from him is that Film In the Cities was fairly set on using large prints for this show. I told him what you said though, and I'll let you know whatever else I hear. He knows I have the small print box anyway, and that they're available. Maybe I'll go to the show w/ Liz and Andy and we can all give you our varying reports. I got a lot done this weekend on my gas station and naturally wish I had even more done - my frames are being taken care of (built) on a trade I arranged with my friend Linda's husband Rick, who is also a friend actually - (you probably don't need all these stupid details, do you?) I'll be glad when the show is hung and I can return to just my everyday sort of panic as opposed to this deadline stuff. New Year's in Rio sounds terrific and like a good deal, but I don't know how I'll be financially, and I also wonder if there's any chance of staying longer than a week. We'll have to talk about it. I am mentally holding you close. Love, Linda."
Thur. March 31, 1983 - " Can't remember what I did (I'm writing this Apr.8). Went downtown and fucked around - everything's closed. Played pins. Spent the afternoon looking through a zillion paperbacks. Ate chicken chow-mein."
Fri. April 1, 1983 - "Looked up Kina (she was there in Salvador) - ate dinner with her, wrote Linda."
Sat. April 2, 1983 - "Looked at books - leather bags. Went nuts on a pinball machine which I was determined to play til I won."
Sun. April 3, 1983 - "Can't remember - think I looked for Lake Abate and saw Kung-Fu movies."
Mon. April 4, 1983 - "Changed $440 in cheques at 610 Cz. to the dollar - bought leather bags (2 flat ones, 6,500 Cz., 1 other flat one, 4,000 Cz., 2 large pouches 7,000 Cz., 1 cylindrical 4,000 Cz.) then mailed them and some cigs (I'm a collector of foreign cigarettes). Earlier I traded 2 paperbacks for a WWII book which I read as I bussed to get my Belem bus ticket."
Tues. April 5, 1983 - "Met Kina downtown and bought some paperbacks. Took 6x7's of the hotel breakfast room with dusk and then raced to catch dusk where was this kitsch green-lit swans but failed. Ate mini-pizzas and snuck into a hotel to watch Flamengo tie Blooming of Bolivia 0-0."
Amazing to me why I found so little time to write in my journal in Salvador and a bad time to not do so since it was not memorable experience and so is lost to my memory. If I was so bored and busy that I couldn't remember what I did a few days later then 25 more years isn't helping. The one very cool thing were these cheap and very well made leather bags I got in Salvador. They were very high quality. I gave some away as gifts when I got home and the ones I kept, especially the flat ones, I used when I bicycled in MPLS to carry things. They lasted me many years.
Wed. April 6, 1983 - "Woke at 9:15, packed and looked all over hell for some lens cleaning fluid, mine having somehow spilled out in my bag - no luck. Went down by the green-lit swans to buy a Daily Post and eat mini-pizzas. Took a bus to the Rodaviaria and wasted time playing pins. Won 4 games on 1 game. Bus left at 6. Read a lot."
Thur. April 6, 1983 - "Spent the day rolling along to Belem which is a city near the mouth of the Amazon River. What fun! Bathroom smells, 2 people threw-up and the meals at the bus stops are disgusting. Read all of 'Star Science Fiction No.4' edited by F. Pohl."
Fri. April 8, 1983 - "Hit Belem at 6 AM and took a bus to the Hotel Central. 3,600 Cz with fan and I like it. Went to sleep and woke in the late afternoon. Ate a disgusting meal in the restaurant next door but enjoyed the pudim. Got out the 6x7 and cruised a little but didn't see anything altho I luckily ran into the departure point for the ENASA boats and got valuble info. On the way back I played this delightful Sure-Shot that requires only 300,000 to win (600,000 in Rio). What a joke! I'll kick that bitch's ass before I leave Belem. Took a walk down Av. Presidente Vargas and bought some grapes and a Rio and Belem paper. Glad I bought the Rio paper because while scarfing down 2 helpings of pudim next door I learned there was a Flamengo-Bolivar match in progress and ran upstairs to watch. Flamengo pooped on it 1-3. After that I went up and wrote in my journal stuff since my 2nd day in Salvador. Belem's a cool town with a good feel to it. It rained many times today in short bursts, a reminder that the rainy season is just starting here. Belem isn't a hole like Salvador and it just feels good to be on the Amazon River and know I don't have to take another long bus ride til I leave Santa Cruz, Bolivia, half a continent away. (It would be boats, plane and trains til then. A much more leisurely way to travel although that 3rd class train from the Brazilian border to Santa Cruz was somewhat of a hellish 500 miles. The way it turned out, I didn't actually use a long distance bus til I left La Paz, Bolivia.) I'm debating whether to go strait to Manaus or stop in Santarem. It's a difficult decision cause I'd like to experience 2 boats on the Amazon but I don't want to jeopardize the Pantanal trip which may take some time. If I got to Santarem and the boats were booked for a week it'd be bad. Saw the Amazon River for the 1st time in my life from the roof of my hotel."
Since I hadn't written my trip plans in my journal I didn't remember until going through this how much ahead I had planned things out. I planned on going to Manaus and crossing over to Cuiba' by plane because the bus would be a true ordeal. Then I planned on trying to illegaly hitch a ride on a cement barge I'd read about in my South American Handbook to Corumba' on the Brazilian/Bolivian border. From there it was a train into Bolivia to Santa Cruz, to Cochabamba, on to La Paz, Lake Titicaca, into Peru to Puno, Cuzco, Machu Picchu, Cuzco again and then Lima for a flight on to Guatemala City. I'm kinda proud of myself, especially since none of the stuff beyond Manaus had been planned when I left and it really ended up making the trip. Backpacking the Altiplano is an all-time classic. This 7 month trip was by itself the trip of a lifetime if you add up all the weird things I did and places I went to. I feel fortunate to have done so many more just like it. I have been truly blessed, especially to have come through it all pretty much unscathed though in some few instances it wasn't for the lack fate and humans trying their hand at taking me down a peg. There were some close calls for sure but nothing that ever scared me off from going where I wanted and doing what I wanted keeping in mind that I always tried to be respectful of the culture. If I was asked to give a spiritual offering to a volcano I did just that, even when it was only me to see if I did it or not. Writing this makes me somewhat nostalgic because it really was just a fantastic time.
When I mentioned the ENASA boats I was talking about government run boats that go up the Amazon. They are for tourists and so very expensive. Information on how to get onto some other boats was very hard to come by. This was where my portuguese came in handy. Still, it was almost not enough but in the end did the job and got me on a cool, crazy boat and saved me a ton of money.
Sat. April 9, 1983 -"Woke around midday and wrote a little to Linda then went to play Sure-Shot. Won my first 4 or 5 then faltered on a couple. Got pissed off and scored 6 or 700,000 on one ball. Took a long, circular walk towards Estrada Nova, past Ver-O-Peso ('Look at the weight.', the fish market's name) and to the ENASA docks. Got attacked by a tiny little dog who got a mouthful of paper for his trouble as I used the bag I was carrying to ward the little bastard away from my ankles. (I can still remember the owner laughing cuz I was kind of pissed off and the dog was so tiny. It was like chihuahua size but in it's own mind, 500 lbs. and with terrible long claws cuz it came right at me but could probably only reach my shins) Took 6x7's of my room and the hotel halls. Showered and with the night decided to try and bus to a busy section of town. Ended up in the middle of nowhere with the bus driver trying to coax me onto a boat of all things. Weird. (Remember having my knife out and available cuz this driver and his buddy got a little weird taking me to the middle of nowhere) On the way back I got off at a little amusement park I saw on the way out. Took some 6x7's there and also inside the lobby of a theatre. Ate at an Italian restaurant then got a neat shot of a Volkswagon. Got to the hotel around 12:30 and wrote this. Found my good ol' pudim here in Belem and gulped down some more today. Didn't rain today, very warm."
Sun April 10, 1983 - " Woke about 11.30 and shortly, post pudim, walked to Ver-O-Peso to see if there was any activity but it was pooped out. Took 2 busses to and down Estrada Nova but being Sunday the situation for finding a boat wasn't good. Talked to these guys in a little bar for awhile then bussed to the hotel. Slept til dusk and just missed it at the amusement park. Took photos of this eatery with yellow chairs and tables and pink walls. Ate some weird soup while it rained. Shot the Ferris Wheel some more and finished up the 6x7's at the semi-porn Cine Opera. Ate spaghetti and went to the hotel."
Mon. April 11, 1983 - "Beat my 5 AM wake up by 15 min. and quickly walked down to the Ver-O-Peso. It was still dark and things were just getting started. The thing I found most fascinating were the very strong men who took the large boxes of fish to be inspected then trucked. They carried these boxes on their heads to this table where a guy standing on a stool inspected the innards of the fish with a hook and a knife. When he was done he would rather imperiously rap on the edge of the box with his knife and the next man would gratefully set down his load. Watching the men who caught crabs was good too. They handled them deftly as they put them in bags or a box. Poor crabs, mercilessly crammed into bags. The market had everything and I could have watched longer but at 7 I headed for the hotel to shower and put on decent clothes for ENASA. The bastards shocked me by wanting 95,000 Cz. for Santarem and 117,000 Cz. for Manaus, $200. Came within a whisker of paying it but they helped me out by holding the ticket they'd already issued me while I went to the Estrada Nova to find a cheaper boat. After looking a while I found an old tub calle the 'Fe em Deus IV'. Paid only 12,000 Cruzeiros. (to Santarem, halfway up the Amazon to Manaus) Decided t buy a hammock on Wed. to lay around in during the day even tho I had a cabin. At 3:45 I finally got back to ENASA and thanked them. In between my 2 morning visits to ENASA I played Sure-Shot. Got 300,000 my first ball and got 3 wins that game. Couldn't miss the bank shot that 1st ball. Slept for awhile in the late afternoon and at night went to visit my Italian restaurant but it was closed. Found another, better one tho, semi-outdoor and ate spaghetti. Se-lept!"
Funny reading about myself; a flan and pinball addicted idiot from MPLS running around Brazil
Tues. April 12, 1983 - "Woke about 1 and finished off Linda's letter post-pudim. Caught a bus to the Goeldi Museum which was all zoo and saw monkeys, birds, snakes, turtles, piranha, deer, parrots, manatees, a giant sea otter, jaguar, pumas and other strange creatures like electric eels. Bought cookies for the boat trip and went to the hotel. Shortly before dusk I went to shoot the Ferris Wheel and got my best shots of that. Returned to the hotel and wrote in yesterday and today. Day of days as far as the pins go. When I left the hotel to go to the Italian restaurant I thought I'd see if Sure-Shot was busy. It wasn't so I bought three fichas (tokens you have to purchase at a window to put in the machine) 80 Cz. each and left with 4. Turned that bitch over again up to 21,000 past 0, my most. Played 20 or 30 games for free and won 10-15. Hit the bankshot at will sometimes. Ate for the third time at the Italian restaurant and got back about 12:30."
One thing I didn't mention was that one day I was eating outside at the Italian restaurant some begger kid came up to me for some money. I asked him if he was hungry and he said yes. I sat him down and ordered some food for him. The waiter approved.
Wed. April 13, 1983 - "Woke around midday and ate pudim and went to buy a rede (hammock) for 2,500 Cz. Used 2 of my fichas up and ate at the shit Central restaurant. Played the pins til late again and ate at the semi-outdoor Italian Resturant. Read from 'The Moon Pool' by A. Merritt."
Thur. April 14, 1983 - "Left the hotel at noon and deposited my luggage behind the desk. Went to the boat and left my rede in a good space then beat it back to centro and ate cheeseburgers, an ice cream cone, looked at statues and sat on a bench and watched Belem go by. At 4 I went to the hotel and got my gear and bussed to the boat. There were a bunch of people already there. When I went with my luggage to sit around the corner of the building people thought I was boarding and they didn't want to lose out so they started to board and I didn't want to lose out so I boarded. Before long my great space was crowded but I got the better of it anyway. The boat was really crowded with redes and 3rd class was the pits. Sat in my rede watching them and eating cookies, read a little Moon Pool, finally slept."
This "Fe em Deus IV" was an old style wooden boat, very big. "Fe em Deus" means "Faith In God". I was a bit concerned about it being the 4th editon and how the faith had played into it. It looked like the boat in "Fitzcarraldo" if you've seen that movie.
Fri April 15, 1983 - "Rose at the crack of dawn mostly cause everybody else woke me with their noise. Breakfast consisted of bread, butter and warm, sweet milk. (Milk for me - the Brazilians are as addicted to coffee as I to pudim and thats what they drank) Life on this boat is weird. I feel sorry for the guys who are scrunched up next to these kids next to me. The 2 guys who are in my cabin are always coming up to me and saying, 'Hi Tom!' or 'Yes, you are an American?'. Not much to do on the boat but it's interesting. I sat at the dining table for awhile as the Brazilians put me on. Met Celeste. Lunch and dinner were hot beans, cold rice and chicken, meat, potatoes for the entire voyage. Showered just before dinner and talked with Celeste as the sun set in a cloudy sky. Slept shortly after."
Sat. April 16, 1983 - "Slept til about 9. Spent the day talking to Celeste and laying or sitting around, playing with the kids next to me. Fairly hot during the day. The guys in my cabin and some other dufe really pissed me off with their stupid sense of humor. (They were showing Celeste porno mags in the cabin and she is very young) Sat alone at the tip of the boat and looked at the stars and hummed 'Mona Lisa'. That was good. Somehow Celeste found me and we talked in the night. (Actually we were making out and finally got kicked out of that area which is the prow of the boat.) Read some Moon Pool after some guy made us go upstairs."
I never used the cabin to hang out or sleep in. I used it as a secure place to keep my luggage cuz the cabin was cheap, $20 and that included meals so I saved a ton of money that 3 day voyage. Really liked those guys who were my cabin mates but it was all too typical in Brazil that when it came to women they would take what they could get and I didn't like what they had did to Celeste. I was so bored on the boat that one day I taught the little kids next to me to curse in english. No one on the boat spoke english. It was hilarious to listen to these kids shouting, "shit" and "fuck, fuck you" over and over again. I think the mom caught on and eventually she had the kids knock it off. That day we pulled into Santarem, for some reason I don't mention in my journal the pink dolphins that greeted us as we approached shore which is considered good luck; there were also thunderstorms on the far horizon with the sun setting behind them at the same time. Altogether quite a sight. One tradition I didn't write about was this: whenever the boat went past a small village people would swim out and passengers would throw them fruit which float in the water. This happened several times.
Sun. April 17, 1983 - "Woke around 10:30, just in time for lunch. Spent the day sitting around, wilting a little in the heat. What a group of degenerates and oddballs. Drinking beer and bullshitting seems to be the life for Brazilians. A real man is worth his weight in gold among such a group; and the poor women who have to put up with it. Ai! One of the funniest things is how they stampede for the coffee when it's time. Other than coffee, dirty books, fast magazines and bullshitting they seem to do little. They're a friendly bunch tho, more so than in the U.S. and I can see how a Brazilian might feel lost there. It's every man for himself at dinner tho. We blew into Santarem as the sun set and I took a taxi to the Nova Olinda. 3,100 on the river, not too bad. I got a 24 hr. store right downstairs. Had chicken outside and walked a little. Very humid."
Mon. April 18, 1983 - "Woke at 8 and went to look at the market and just walk around. Read the paper in the park. At dusk I took pictures of kids fishing and the boats with the 35mm and 80-200 zoom. When I got back to the hotel Celeste was waiting and I talked the owner into letting her come up. So I made love all night to a 15 year old Brazilian morena in a city on the Amazon River."
Tues. April 19, 1983 - "Woke up early when Celeste left but I went back to sleep and didn't rise til 4:30. Got good shots of kids fishing with the tele-converter on the zoom for a 400mm effect and used an 85B filter. Started having problems with the shutter not tripping with the cable release so I got pissed off and ripped it out of the socket. So much for that cable. The next day I learned that it was probably the camera that was at fault. Celeste was waiting for me when I got done pigging out on frango (chicken) and some good chicken potato salad. I was feeling energy-less so we sat and watched lightning for awhile, drank pop on the hotel porch. I ran for cigs and we went up and after a fitful attempt at love she slept the rest of the night. After finishing Linda's letter so did I."
Wed. April 20, 1983 - "Was awake when Celeste left in something of a 15 yr. old huff. Slept til 11 then started a letter to mom. At noon I went to eat yummy potato salad and look for a cable release but everything was closed up. Returned to the hotel and finished up Ma's letter and then mailed both letters and bought the only cable release in town for 3,000 Cz. Read the paper, ate cake and had a laranja (orange juice) then waited at the hotel for dusk. As dusk neared I went to eat potato salad at a nice outside corner table. Dusk was swift and there was no sunset. Took one flash shot and had shutter release problems with that. Went to the hotel and wrote this. Afterwards I had a long walk. Today some kids and a guy pulled a 5 or 6 ft. snake out of the river that was thicker than my bicep."
A boy fishing the Amazon River in Santarem
by James May
Thur. April 21, 1983 - "Left at 8 to secure passage on the '11th of May'. On the way back Celeste got on the bus. Slept the morning and day away. My 3rd day of mild diahria. At 3 I went and I fought flies for my food. Watched a little of Palmeiras-Santos 2-2 draw in TV at the hotel. Shot 2 rolls of Kodachrome 64 getting what should be great shots of people fishing with the sun setting behind them. Started a roll of Ektachrome 400 on the people fishing then started flashing the boats. Shot my other roll of Ektachrome 400 on Tues. of kids fishing, have 6 left. Think I shot my first of the 6 Ektachrome 64's I bought in Rio at the Ver-O-Peso and still have the other 5. Have all 4 Ektachrome 200's left. Great sunset tonight. Helped my portfolio. Afterwards I went to the hotel and wrote in today up til now. Shot everything tonight with the 2x tele-converter and 85B filter. Can't wait to see the results. Went with the 6x7 to shoot the little loja (store) with the blue exterior and pink interior but it was closed. On the way there I ate spaghetti on the roofed over (no walls) 3rd and top floor of a hotel. It was good but waited over half an hour. When I got to the hotel Celeste had been waiting 2 hrs. We sat in the lobby for awhile then we went up and I showered. When I came out she soon fell asleep and so did I."
Fri. April 22, 1983 - "We woke early and talked for a while. I took pix of her on the Ektachrome 400 roll and after awhile she left. I went to my boat and bought the ticket and left my rede bag and blue bag in the cabin. Went to the rooftop restaurant and ate pressed chicken, spaghetti and rice. Looked all over hell for some toilet paper. Sat in the park for awhile, trying to pass time til I embarked at 4:00. It was there I noticed a burning sensation in my crotch. I didn't think much of it at the time. Went to the hotel and watched most of 'First Men In the Moon'. It ended at 4:15 and I went up and saw my rash. I am so sorry I bedded that chick. I was a fool to throw my own advice and reasoning out the window. If the rash goes away and never comes back I'll consider myself lucky. (turned out it was heat rash) Shortly bussed to the boat and sat in front of my cabin munching cookies. Took a few 6x7's of 2 cranes across the way. Read, sat around, drank pop, slept, watched the end of some shit Brazilian movie topside, slept. Still have diahria and now egg burbs."
Egg burbs always meant I had giardia which can be trouble. You get it from feces in your food or water. I was really careful not to eat salads or drink tap water but when you get into certain areas it can be endemic and hard to escape cuz my dishes are being washed in Amazon river water. I always traveled with tetracycline which usually killed it straight away and although I've been told it doesn't really work like that it worked like a charm for me and usually super fast, within an hour. I don't think I had any on that boat so I had to deal with it. It was strangely surreal to be watching that movie topside. It was night and the top deck is totally open so you have this movie projected onto a screen like a mini-drive-in theatre while the jungled banks slid by on either side on a room temperature night, nice. I guess those moments were what I was there for. The "11 of May" was the exact opposite of the "Fe' em Deus IV". It was all metal and clean.
Sat. April 23, 1983 - "Woke around 9 and by 1 had shit 4 times. Ate 2 sulpha-guanadino. Hope they help. My rash seems to be growing and with it my regret at having fucked that whore which I regretted even before getting this rash. Guess I'll have to see a doctor in Manaus. I'm crossing my fingers it's not herpes. Sitting on the boat at night, watching scenery go past, or dusk, while reading is nice. When the boat left Santarem the city was a line of lights with flashes of lightning above it. Finished of Moon Pool, my 2nd reading of it, and 'A Shot In the Dark' and only have 1 story to go in the Astounding Memorial Collction."
Sun. April 24, 1983 - "Things looking up today. My rash is going away, slowly, and my diaria is gone. Laid around all day anyway and read 'Helix the Cat', finishing off the Astounding collection. Reread a little more than half of Andre Norton's 'The Stars Are Ours'. Met a guy named Joao Thomas today and he invited me to dinner at his house. While I was talking to him a nice looking chick came over and sat down with the usual cow eyes. While we talked there was a splendid sunset and as it died we arrived in Manaus, squeezing our way into the crowded dock at an angle, to the chagrin of other boats who got bumped and scraped. Joao with his wife gave me a ride to 7th of Sept. and after awhile I checked into a hotel for 3,000 Cz., fan and bath. Since I didn't like the look of the clientele I immediately scurried off and looked at a number of other hotels but found no better deals than what I had. Ate lasgna and obtained the recipe for pudim. Went to see 'The Thing' at 10, my 2nd time. Disaster almost struck when I tripped on the stairs going up to my room and smashed my 6x against them. It wouldn't work on bulb but only at one unspecified shutter speed no matter what speed I set it on. When I changed batteries it started working right again, which doesn't make sense but I'll take it."
Mon. April 25, 1983 - "Got up in the afternoon and started walking around, going as far as the famous opera house. Got caught in the rain awhile, walked all over. Bought my plane ticket 1st thing today. At 6 I went to the Italian restaurant and bowled over the waiter when I told him all I wanted was 4 portions of pudim. (I can still here the cook yelling about it in the kitchen) Got to the hotel about 8 and didn't leave til 11, too late for the Italian place so I finally found a pizza joint open and scarfed it down with mustard and catsup while the people working there waited to close. From there I headed for the river and sat on some steps watching trucks being loaded then went a little farther down to watch guys cleaning fish. 30 ft. covered boats dotted the area just off shore, garishly lit. From these the fish were brought to shore in open 15 ft. boats to be loaded onto trucks. I hired a young boy to paddle me around while I took flash shots. There were little floating coffee shops even. Very warm, still night - full moon.
Tues. April 26, 1983 - " Went to the Opera House but they were without electricity. Ate at a chinese restaurant. Slept til evening. Ate spaghetti, potato salad and pudim."
Wed. April 27, 1983 - "Ate at a chinese restaurant. Visited the post office to mail a package but will have to wait until tomorrow. In the evening I took a long walk, after potato salad and pudim, to the opera house and all over, looking for photos and movie theatres. Took a couple of photos of a building withy neon and then saw 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', as good as ever. Went to the dock to shoot this pool room but too many people. Read 'Orn'."
Thurs. April 28, 1983 - "Rose early and mailed off film and cigs with no hitches, 5,900 Cz. Went to the opera house and shot that up, poorly I'm afraid, with flash. Returned to the hotel, read a bit, slept. Went to this Italian restaurant at dusk. Had pizza and pudim. Went to the hotel, finished off 'Orn' and watched Brazil beat Chile 3-2. Went out for a pop. Very damn warm and I have 1 filthy shirt to wear cuz the hotel is taking so long with my laundry."
Fri. April 29, 1983 - "Woke up, read, went back to sleep. Finally woke about 3 and shortly heard Kina's voice outside my room, and incredible coincidence. Talked in the hall and in the restaurant upstairs for a long time. (Kina told me had taken that Enasa boat up the Amazon to Manaus and that it was a drab affair - costly too) as I have told. Unfortunately Kina and this English girl really pissed me off when we argued about the right to defend ones self against criminals. Like cowards they felt that appeasing the criminal by not making him angry by using force or weapons for defense was best so the criminal wouldn't use worse weapons next time. Typical idiotic logic of a mind from a tranquil environment. Never faced with reality, such a mind can afford to use such reasoning. Then they got angry cause I suggested they knew nothing of history which they didn't cuz any fool knows appeasing a criminal only feeds him boldness like in the case of Hitler. I happily left those idiots and went to the Italian restaurant and ate chicken and wistfully ordered my last pudim there. Went back to my steambath of a room and showered and packed. Stayed up til after midnight."
Don't know why I let myself be baited into an argument with Kina and this other chick. It was this English woman who started the trouble cuz Kina and I always got along fine. I thought the reason they didn't like to be disagreed with was cuz they were so used to guys nodding at whatever they said just to get in bed with them. Shoulda taken their money since they're so eager to give it away without a fight.
Sat. April 30, 1983 - "Woke at 5:30 AM and the hotel taxied me and this Bolivian guy to the airport for 3,000 Cz. each. Flight left at 8 and was uneventful. From Cuiba' airport I cabbed for 1,000 Cz. to Hotel Presidente. Very warm as I went for a walk and ate an ice cream cone. Didn't take me long to discover the near-to-death Sure-Shot next door. I played it a lot since all I had to do was wait for Monday to come around. At night I ate spaghetti and chicken and watched Vasco da Gama declassify Palmeiras by tieing them 0-0 in Sao Paolo. A hotel across the street let me watch it in color all alone in their viewing room."
Sun. May 1, 1983 - "Rose late and split my time between Flamengo losing to Corinthians 1-4 and pinball. Won a lot at pinball. 4 in 1 once. Walked a long way to find a restaurant and finally ate spaghetti and chicken in an outdoor place with a thatched roof. Played pins, not much else."
Mon. May 2, 1983 - "Went to try my luck for a means of transport down the Cuiba' River. 1st asked S. Rosa Express Co. which sent me to a tourist agency which gave me an address which was a long walk down Av 13 of June. Some woman gave me the Itau' (cement company) address but it was too late in the day. Tried my luck with the 6x7 at dusk but nothing doing. When I got to the hotel I met this German guy who was working on a story for Stern. I played pinball and me and the German went to eat at the Bainia where I ate fried chicken, spaghetti and rice."
Tues. May 3, 1983 - " Woke before noon and, after a couple pieces of pizza and a toddy (chocolate drink) I bussed to the cement company but the office was closed til 1 PM. So I passed the time eating a cone and talking to the lady who ran the joint. Then I walked up a little ways to a restaurant and had a couple of pops. Then the daughter of the Sorveteria ran over looking for me cuz she wanted to correspond but I told her my portuguese couldn't handle it. The office opened and they sent me across the street. The info there was rather uncertain so I decided to procure a truck ride into Porto Cercado. I found a guy who was leaving at 4 and bussed into center and changed $40 cash, in a hotel ate 600 Cz. to the dollar. Checked out and took a taxi to Itau' and waited for my driver who never showed. Fortunately I go another who, with reluctance let me hop aboard. After much waiting I rode the 100 km. in Pocone'. The guy was really tired and decided to pass the night there but after he showered at a gas station he decided to go on. 1st he ate in a little place while I took a couple of 6x7's. We took a bumpy dirt road into Porto Cercado (45 more km.) and then I learned there was no pension (hotel) so I had to sleep in a grimy hut with grimy men who worked for Itau'. My tubby truck driver strung up my rede for me which promptly broke and I smashed my tail-bone on the cement floor. For a few seconds I thought I'd really hurt myself. The Brazilians laughed and laughed. I finally ended a long day with subdued Barry Manilow music coming from the radio in the next room."
There is a big obelisk in Cuiba' that marks the spot as the geographical heart of the South American continent; I was deep in it alright and that was exactly how I wanted it. I don't remember much about that ride from Cuiba' through Poncone' and into Porto Cercado that lasted well into the night. I do remember that it was in the middle of nowhere, nothing but jungle most of what was about 100 miles total. The gas station we stopped at had this barebulb in it's main room which was mostly empty and crude wooden shelves with one package of cookies near some swarming ants which I bought. Porto Cercado in 1983 had only an Itau' company complex there and nothing else really; it was just a place from which cement was shipped downriver in big barges which were pushed 2 at a time by a tugboat. I remember the truck driver who brought me flicking his bic lighter down by his side to see to walk by it's spark cuz there was no outside lighting; a neat trick I used a few times in later travels. When I smashed my tailbone onto the floor I remember making a joke of it since they were all laughing at me anyway, exaggerating my groans and making fake painful comments that made them all laugh twice as hard. I understand that today there is an ecological hotel in Porto Cercado. This truck driver who's name I do not remember typified the "sympatico" Brazilians have for other people. The driver clearly did not want to bring me along although he later enjoyed my company but did so simply because he could see how badly I wanted to go.
Wed. May 4, 1983 - "Woke around 8 AM and headed for the cement barge. The captain said it was okay with him (for me to accompany the tug to Corumba') but I would have to talk to the port boss. The port boss used the ship's radio to call Corumba'. After half an hour of waiting with fingers crossed I at last heard the munchkin voice from Corumba' reply, 'negativo'. Downhearted, I found out that there could be trucks for Cuiba' later in the day and headed for a restaurant up the road since I had had only 2 pieces of pizza and a package of chocolate cookies the day previous. Met an American and an Italian near the restaurant. They had a little boat and were traveling downriver, the American shootin stuff with a 16mm. Walked back to the Itau' compound and found a guy who was trucking cement to Cuiba" soon. I would've returned right then and there but had time to kill and after watching what I thought was the departure of my boat I decided to make one last stab at it when it turned out it hadn't left. I went to the captain and offered 20,000 Cz., then 25,000 Cz. ($30-$40); I cajoled, argued, pleaded, and when I thought he would never give in he finally said that if the other 5 guys said okay then I was in. IN! Hah! The Pantanal! They fed me (on the boat) and I went to the restaurant with a cooler they gave me to buy some pop and cigs for the voyage. The guy wouldn't sell me bottles cuz he wanted the empties but I brought back 7 cans. Went to get my luggage in the hut and talked to the port boss. The guys on the boat wanted me to be secretive so I brought my luggage to this old, big shed near the boat and then went to the restaurant to kill time til the boat left. Drank 6 bottles of pop in 90 minutes and talked to the American about movies, Frank Frazetta, old cartoons, fantasy and the like. After that I hid out in the shed til it was time to leave but it was no longer a secret. So we finally left. My rede was hung in a hot, noisy (engine) room that reeked of diesal fuel. Saw some capivara and took pix as the sun set. At night I looked at the stars and tried to see jacare's by flashlight. Read the last pages of the Swords Trilogy (Moorcock) then slept a bit. Finally they stopped the boat and without the heat and the noise I slept well. Another long day."
As I mentioned earlier, I'd learned about the possibility of this little cement barge adventure trip from my South American Handbook which was the bible of a guide book for backpackers back then before Lonely Planet and the Let's Go... series of books. They also mentioned that going on the cement barge would be problematic because of a recent incident involving tourists doing what I wanted to do. Apparently some of the cement barges have some kind of rooms or simply space below decks and this how a couple of backpackers went down the river a year or two previously. There'd been an accident, a barge had sunk and the tourists were killed so I knew I faced tough sledding from the company about getting a ride long before I ever reached Cuiba' but was determined to give it a shot.
I still remember gliding past the compound as the tug left port, the workers on the shore, who now all knew about my supposedly secret exit waving to me and I felt absolutely triumphant. They were happy that I succeded and that is Brazilian sympatico as I call it. It is no exaggeration to say that the captain of the tug told me "no" 25 times. I pestered that guy like I've never done and finally I think he gave up mostly cuz of me but $40 is $40 too but I don't think the money was wholly the deciding factor thought he certainly would not have done it without the dough.
The "munchkin voice I mentioned is caused by air disturbance or something with those little radios; I can still distinctly remember that voice saying, "negativo, negativo" as I stood in the office and I was sure it was because of the accident I've mentioned. The reason I drank 6 soda pops in 90 min. was because it was utterly hot and humid there and the moisture seemed like it was sucked right out of you. I don't think I have ever had a greater thirst in my entire life. The reason the boat stopped that night was simply so the captain could sleep. They also laid up in the heat of the day once or twice.
Not long before this period in my life I used to have a coffee table book of the constellations of the stars and so I was quite familiar with the night sky as seen from Minneapolis. I used to go sit at the very front of these very long cement barges in the still 80 degree night and smoke a joint and marvel at how different the stars all were. Yeah, I had some weed with me.
The guy who I shared the engineering space with was this older black guy who had asthma or ephezima from inhaling all the engine exhaust in those confined quarters. He smoked these prescription cigarettes to fight the effect and he told me they had marijuana inside. One time I hung a t-shirt to dry in that engine room that I'd hand washed and it became totally dark grey so I sympathised with the guy.
Thurs. May 5, 1983 - "Woke around mid-morning and passed the first part of the day snapping pix. Saw my 1st Jacare', more capivara, lots of birds. We came upon another Itau' boat that was unable to buck the current with it's cement. So, we helped them upstream and didn't cut loose til dusk. When we had out barges again I was seeing lots of gators and a couple of big fish they called 'dourados' jumped up on the other barge clear out of the water, attracted by the lights and were stranded for awhile but by the time I and another guy reached them they'd managed to flop themselves back into the water. Listened to Flamengo beating Vasco da Gama 2-1 on the radio a little bit and sat around. I've been very thirsty all day and drank all my pop cuz the captain said we'd stop at the Santa Rosa Hotel near Porto Joffre. The boat stopped for the night and I slept very well."
I should say a little something about the Pantanal. Basically it's a swamp/flood plain 10 times the size of the Florida Everglades; 50 to 60 thousand sq. miles - maybe about the size of Iowa. In 1983 the only way to arrive in Corumba' on the Bolivian border from deeper in Brazil during the rainy season was by train. The train ran along an dirt elevated track and in the rainy season that track was in the middle of what looked like a giant lake with trees sticking out; that's how high the water rises in the Pantanal in the rainly season. The wildlife in the Pantanal both in terms of it's fecundity and variety is staggering; the place is infested with alligators too. Watching the passing scenery was like watching the Discovery Channel; you'd be looking at the river and suddenly a hawk would swoop down and pluck a bird floating on the water before your very eyes.
Let me tell you how the barges navigated the river. The barges were very long, maybe 100 ft, and the river very curvy at many points. They would actually push right into a bank, backe off a bit and then continue down the river; there was simply no room the just turn with the river. One night they did this when I was hanging out near the front of the barge smoking a joint and the bank they'd bumped into was level with the height of the barge. On the edge of this bank were 2 big alligators just sitting there with their mouths open. I got really excited and went right up to the edge of the barge and shined my flashlight into their mouths. The guys back on the tug were yelling at me like I was nuts. The shower I mention in the next entry consists of standing naked on the deck and pouring water from the river over yourself with a bucket; really nice considering the heat.
The tug itself was an old wooden tug like out of some old movie, not very big, kinda cramped in fact. I'm not really sure how far the distance is that I went on that river; as the crow flies, maybe 150 to 200 miles? I'd like to tell you this stupid little tidbit about marine/naval discipline or tradition even on a little tug in the middle of nowhere that I found humorous. It was very hot and I never wore a shirt on board but when when we gathered around for lunch or dinner I was strictly told that I had to wear a shirt. At no other time did they care if I wore a shirt - they often didn't wear shirts - just at mealtimes was it mandatory. Cool.
Fri. May 6, 1983 - "Woke early and we soon stopped so I could load up on pop; 10 cans, 4,000 Cz. (66 cents each). What a rip! No animals at midday so I scribble in the last few days. Slept for a few hours then showered and at dusk washed some shit. Today and yesterday I used my first roll of Ektachrome 200. I've really enjoyed this river trip. Tonight I sat on the front of one of the barges and drank pop and smoked cigs."
Sat. May 7, 1983 - "Woke about midday - no cigs - wasn't too bad. They stopped the boat to kill a capivara (they used a rifle and somehow saw it in the reeds although I couldn't see a thing). At 2 PM they stopped to wait for the night so they could sneak me in easier. I napped on a barge. During a beautiful orange dusk we approached Corumba'. They charged me 18,000 Cz. for the journey; 30 bucks. One of them helped me with my luggage and I found a hotel after trekking some; only 1,200 Cz. ($2). Slept early for me."
Sun. May 8, 1983 - "Left around 11 AM to walk around. Very warm, sunny. Bought Saturday's Rio paper, 2 chocolate crunch bars, a guanara' (soda pop), a toddy, toilet paper, toothbrush, soap. Went to the hotel at 12, talked to the desk guy til 1. Think I got the beginnings of diaria but I'll short circuit it this time by eating a Sulpha-Guanidino. Napped for a couple of hours, ate a couple of cheeseburgers then went to the hotel next door and watched Flamengo tie Vasco da Gama 1-1 and classify for the semi-finals in the Taca do Ouro along with Santos, Atletico PR and Atletico MG. Afterwords I walked a block towards the river to have a look at dusk and some cars came by honking their horns. One car had a family who were all wearing Flamengo t-shirts. God I wish I were in Rio."
My shot at the river that night
Mon. May 9, 1983 - "Got up late and went looking for 'Amiga' (a current song hit) by Roberto Carlos. Good thing I didn't find it cause the P.O. here can't mail anything to the U.S. over 1 kilo; so I'll have to bring my rede with me to Santa Cruz. Stupid assholes wouldn't let me mail my 2 letters with masking tape on them so I had to run around and buy 2 envelopes. At dusk I went towards the river and got fantastic 6x7's of a neon sign with an orange sky. Good stuff. Met a long haired Brazilan photographer and we talked and I blew 3,000 Cz. on shit potato salad and fish. I haven't had any kind of appetite here in Corumba'. Talked til very late with some Brazilians in front of my hotel then went looking for pop then got my tripod and took some 6x7's.'
Tues. May 10, 1983 - "Got up early but just could not get motivated; felt very lazy. Finally left for the consulate at 11 AM but they told me I'd have to get my passport stamped by the police at the train station 1st. That didn't open til 1 PM so I ate then took the long, hot walk to the station. That done, I walked to the consulate but it was closed for 30 more min. or so a guy told me but it didn't open til 2:30. While waiting I met this old Brazilian guy and his wife. He, Plinio, turned me on to the fact that train tickets were difficult cause of long lines and that he knew a guy who sold tickets across the border for the ferrobus (the train to Santa Cruz, prononced 'croo'). So we went to my hotel and I borrowed 2,000 pesos Bolivian from the owner. A friend of Plinio's brought us across the border and we procured tickets for 1,820 pesos plus a 500 peso premium. We got back just in time for me to miss dusk. I talked with the hotel owner, walked, laid in the park and went up."
Wed. May 11, 1983 - "Felt very lazy again and seemed to take forever to get up. Changed $50 ate 380 pesos to the dollar. When I was sitting at the hotel around 3 Plinio came in and said he couldn't pick up my ticket cuz the guy wanted a passport. I felt very angry. The owner of my hotel offered to give me a ride for gas money and I accepted. Plinio came along cuz he wanted to have his passport stamped to save time tomorrow. Some gringos were stranded at the station and one of them had managed to procure a ticket for herself but this woman didn't want to leave her friend so I bought it for 2,000 pesos. This was a stroke of luck for me cuz I would have had to wait a day or 2 and go thru a lot of trouble for another. Had my passport stamped and we returned. I went to the neon sign and took more 6x7's of that area and my hotel's owner came along. After that I went to Plinio's hotel and we all went to eat at the Churrascaria (which is a Brazil style steak house) that I had so disliked the night before. Tried to pay my hotel bill but the owner's math was a little shakey, so I went and changed by $11 U.S. with Plinio instead. Stayed up late. Warm, still night. My last in Brazil, 133rd day."
Border areas like this have a culture all their own but this was the worst I ever encountered and I've seen some bad ones. If you were a gringo crossing either way and didn't speak the lingo you were totally screwed. I remember seeing a woman backpacker sitting on the ground in the train station and just crying at the madness of it. They for sure had a Byzantine system for getting across that border both in terms of the customs procedures and transportation. It was truly nuts and I had to do it 2 years later. Part of the problem was that the Brazilian and Bolivian customs offices were nowhere near each other. One had to take a taxi and a bus to get to the train station inside Bolivia and the Brazilian formalities were done at the train station in Brazil nowhere near the actual border crossing. The lingua franca was a strange mixture of spanish and portuguese.
Thur. May 12, 1983 - "Woke at 5:30 AM and at 6 was at Plinio's hotel. Ate bread, butter and jelly there and at 7 we split in the jeep, my hotel's owner driving us. The ferrobus was a joke considering it was the best of the 3 trains. (they had the ferrobus, the train rapido and a regular train - you don't want the other 2. The ferrobus carried only passengers and was considered an express train) It stopped quite a few times and then kids would come to the train, shouting the name of their food. 13 butt aching hours later we were in Santa Cruz. We taxied to the hotel Los Pozos, 400 pesos a night. Quite cool here and I'm already missing the eternal heat of Brazil. Went to get a late dinner at the plaza before turning in. Used all my covers cuz I have an open window."
Fri. May 13, 1983 - "Left the hotel at 11 AM and Plinio and his wife came a block or 2. Wanted to mail my rede and get some clothes cleaned. Found a laundry but they could only return my stuff Monday so I walked all over hell looking but finally gave up in favor of the P.O., but when I got there they told me I'd have to return at 3. Went and had a piece of cake and pizza then went to the hotel and bought a jacket in the market for 3,500 Pesos ($10) Went to the P.O. and mailed off the box and found a laundry and bought 'Lilith' (1895 fantasy novel by George MacDonald) and a Newsweek. At night I stumbled across a bookstore that had old SF and bought something. Drizzled all day. Bought a plane ticket for 3,600 pesos."
Sat. May 14, 1983 - "Nice, sunny, warm, sometimes hot, day. Traded my jacket for another that fit better for 1,000 peso more. Picked up my laundry and walked alot. Took 1 or 2 flash pix at the market at dusk. Woke about 10 AM today."
Sun. May 15, 1983 - "Another nice day. Picked up more laundry as well as a giant sloth in the central park who had wandered out into the street and brought it back to it's tree. Went on a crowded bus to see Real Santa Cruz tie The Strongest 0-0. Very different football from Brazil. They used a heavier ball marked much more closely resulting in brutal football lacking in finesse. Crowd delighted in throwing oranges at the referees, players, ballboys and each other. One guy threw a 'D' sized flashlight battery. Walked all the way back to centro. Paid 15 pesos for the bus coming, 400 for the game. Ate in a chinese restaurant."
Mon. May 16, 1983 - "Woke at 9, showered and left the hotel at 10 for 'Edgars Books'; bought and sold some science fiction paperbacks. Ate 3 pieces of pizza and changed $50 at 350 pesos to the dollar. Went to the hotel at 1, shaved, packed and at 2 taxied to the airport for 150 pesos, less than 50 cents. Delay after delay and the plane finally left. Got to Cochabamba in 30 minutes. Took a 100 pes0 cab to the Hotel Oriental, 360 pesos a night, just over a dollar. Dashed to the plaza first thing, ate candy bars, looked around. Visited a cine (theatre) and talked to some guys who worked there and ran into some Brazilians who'd stayed at the J and K (my hotel) in Corumba. Read."
Tues. May 17, 1983 -"Woke to a knock at 9:20. Immigration wanting to see my passport. (It was cuz this is cocaine country). Read a little and went to centro. (center; the equivalent of downtown in any latin city.) Visited a book store which had a lot of books but they wanted to close for lunch before I could look at them all. Ran into Plinio and his wife in the plaza and we ate in a chinese restaurant. We said our farewells and I went to climb a hill for a view of the mountains. Returned to the bookstore but decided they were too expensive. Bought Kevin 2 wrestling photo-mags (Kevin's nuts about wrestling), changed $50 at 335 pesos to the dollar. Ate 3 pieces of pizza and went to see 'Reds' at 6:30. It impressed me a good deal. Only 180 pesos, 55 cents. Warm, sunny today."
Wed. May 18, 1983 - "Left the hotel around midday and headed straight for the market. Looked around for 2 or 3 hours before buying a dark blue synthetic scarf for 350 pesos and a brown wool one for 400. Bought 3 sweaters for 4,400 and they a grey one for 1,800 -cheap. Late in the afternoon I changed $20 at 335 pesos to the dollar. Tried to mail the sweaters but it was too late. Talked to a German guy at the P.O. and on the way to the cine. Rushed to a chicken place and got to the cine in time to see 'Missing', 190 pesos, at 6:30, a movie that gave it's views on the horrors of indiscriminate murder in a place with social chaos and on the inadvisibility of sticking one's nose where it does no belong. It reminded me of the soldiers with guns manning a street intersection last night. Started 'The Children's Hour' by Henry Kuttner last night and finished it this morning. Beautiful title awkardly jammed into an ordinary story."
Thur. May 19, 1983 - "Woke at 7:30 and taxied to the airport for 150 pesos. Plane left about 10 and the flight over the Andes Mountains gave some stupendous views. Shared a taxi to the Hotel Bulgaro for 200 pesos which was filled up and I was glad cuz it was a hole. Walked a couple of blocks and found the Hotel Vienna, a cool place for 850 pesos, $2.70 a night. Split right off for Magri (American Express rep.), anxious to get letters. It was nice to get 2 letters from Ma but I was real crestfallen that there was nothing from Linda. What a letdown. Some time around then I began to get a neck ache and knew I had to eat, having had nothing today and 1 meal yesterday. took awhile but I finally found a downstairs basement restaurant and had a big steak. Went to the Hotel Plaza about 1:30 and had to wait til 2:30 but I finally got a nice massage but it didn't do a thing for my neck as I'd hoped. I left and looked around for a U.S. paper but had no luck and the pain in my neck was fantastic. Sat in my room hoping relaxing would make the pain go away but it was past that, and with having a touch of altitude sickness all I did was suffer for 2 or 3 hrs. until I decided to get some aspirin. Suffered while waiting for them to take effect and blissfully woke later on, without pain and having no recollection of falling asleep."
Didn't really write much in my journals that descibed anything about Bolivia. I remember thinking how brutish spanish sounded compared to the lyrical, sing-song cadence of potuguese. I bought a really good spanish grammar book right after entering Bolivia and read it constantly, everytime I ate and in the room at night so I was having no language problems. Cochabamba was a weird place. You'd see street kids at night who were high from smoking cocaine paste.
Bolivians have a reputation of being slightly xenophobic and I experienced a little of this in my hotel in Cochabamba. I was talking to a couple of Bolivian guys and they told me that thought they had nothing against me personally that they didn't like me. When I asked why they said this it was because I wasn't Bolivian. Tried to get more out of them but that was pretty much it. Once I got into Cochabamba the air was thinner and it could be chilly and I was in indigenous country. I remember being fascinated with the Bolivian indian women with their ever present bowler hats and voluminous skirts. The ones who worked selling stuff in markets love to bargain; it's almost a requirement to do so. Other than that I have few impressions of Santa Cruz and Cochabamba. Though I wanted to see them they were really just a way to get deeper into Bolivia and to Peru. La Paz was an interesting place but no more than that. I enjoyed experiencing the culture of La Paz well enough but it exerted no charm on me like Rio did and the 2 cultures are light years apart.
That is especially so of the women. Without being to unkind to the women of Bolivia, those altiplano girls got nothing on the women of Rio who are world class. Bolivia is much more conservative than much of Brazil in it's culture. The thing I did like about La Paz is that, like Guatemala, the indigenous culture is strong and vibrant.
A shot I took in La Paz
La Paz was weird cuz, like many cities in Latin America, there a very few public bathrooms. In running around La Paz on a bright, sunny mornign you'd see guys right out in the open on some rubble heap on an abandoned lot taking a shit; and this was right in the center of downtown. As I'm proof reading this in Cairo in 2010 I've just came from 3 months in India where it is common to see men shitting outside. Whether in Rio or La Paz, if it came to it, it was easier for me to wangle my way into a bathroom somewhere because gringos have a kind of instant credibility in Latin America; I think it's because they equate us with money which means we'll be no trouble. The bad side of that of course is that we are targets for thieves and overcharging. Thievery wasn't too bad in Bolivia; Peru was much worse as you'll see.
La Paz is way up in the air, 3,800 meters and the air is very dry. House flies which zip along at sea level fly much more slowly in La Paz. The altitude sickness I had was probably because I smoked and came up in a plane which is too fast for some people to adjust. That soroche, as they call it in Bolivia, is an utter misery. Just going up a flight of stairs made my breath quicken and it took me almost 2 weeks to really adjust fully to the altitude.
Fri. May 20, 1983 - "Left the hotel about 12 and had another steak in the same place. Since everything was closed for lunch I decided to do some photography. Took a couple of pix of busses then cruised Av. 16 of Julio looking to take pix from tall buildings. Visited a couple top floors, ate cake, visited Magri Tours in vain, then late in the day decided to visit Los Organos del Diablo, a weird rock formation outside the city. Got off bus in wrong place, got another and rode it to the end of the line, climbed and saw nothing worth seeing. After I returned I took some pix of Plaza Murillo with my F-1 propped on a paperback. From there took a long walk, a fantastic walk, started, and shot most of a roll of Ektachrome 400. Walked all evening. Changed $60 in cheques at 360 pesos to the dollar. I can't get over the popularity of the bowler hat so many of the Indian women wear, along with the same dress, apron, shawl affair. Many of them wear a short petticoat which bulges out their dress at the hips in a, to me, most unseemly fashion. There are many gringos in La Paz. I see them everywhere. Sometimes I get the feeling they're coming out of a factory some place with mellow the main ingredient. Don't angry, raucous people travel on the cheap? And if the gringos were an accurate reflection of the beauty of American women I'd leave it for good. Is it possible that NATO countries don't give exit visas to good looking women?"
Sat. May 21, 1983 - "Woke around 10:30, showered and left the hotel at noon. Headed straight for Magri but still nothing from Linda. I just can't understand it. Went to the corner cafe (an rather more upscale place I went to ofter) and had lasagna, slice of cake, pudim and 2 glasses of milk. Tried to take the Z bus to the airport but no matter how far I backtracked it was always full. In between I played some pins and just looked at shit. Went to the hotel and watched The Strongest beat Bolivar 1-0. Shot some pix at dusk of Plaza San Francisco then rushed to see 'Gandhi', a very long and very good flick but 'E.T.' was more of an achievement in cinematic terms. (guess I was talking about the Oscars) Took awhile but I finally found a place to eat some steak, rice and papas fritas. Tried to call ma but there was some fuck up. Started 'Game Players of Titan', read til late."
Sun May 22, 1983 - "Left around noon and headed for the corner cafe for some spaghetti and cake. Talked to some old guy on a bench for an hour. At 3:15 I headed for Siles Stadium and for 150 pesos watched Wilsterman tie The Strongest 0-0. Sat in my room for awhile then went to Entel only to find collect calls were not permitted. Pigged out at a chinese restaurant then went to the hotel. Wrote some more to Linda still not knowing if the words will be mailed cuz I decided I must blow the money on the 3 min. minimum to get the Guatemala P.O. address to ma tomorrow night. Read large chunk of GP of Titan. Quite good."
Mon. May 22, 1983 - "Finished last 20 pages of GP of Titan and suffered thru another (cold) shower. Otro vez fui para Magri pero me tuve nada. Spent all day looking for a box for the sweaters and found one finally. Because of mailing costs I decided to mail the sweaters and film separately. I returned the big box because it was too weak and got a nice little box for the film. So the visit to the P.O. was for nothing. Sat at the hotel for a while then went to Entel and called ma, 2,600 pesos. and I barely got my info in the 3 min. Ate steak and eggs at the corner cafe. Talked in the hotel lobby for a long time then Ma called unexpectedly early. Apparently the difference in time zones is 1 hr. not 2. We talked for about 40 min. and it was sure nice. I gave her the Guatemala P.O. address; hope my gear makes it. I was bummed when Linda said she wouldn't call cuz she couldn't afford it. What's money? Read a little 'Lilith' and slept."
Tues. May 24, 1983 - "Left hotel about 11 and headed for Magri. Got my 3rd letter from ma and at last 1 from Linda. Unfortunately it seems it was the 2nd of 2 and the 1st was a long one. Guess she's having money problems so I understand why she didn't want to call. She gave me nice reassurances that she's still into me. Ma sent more baseball standings. Spent next couple hrs. or so looking for a sack for the sweaters (learned people there mail stuff in flour sacks), climbing street after street, a never ending market. Got to the aduana just as it opened and mailed off 3 sweaters and the brown scarf by boat, 2,500 pesos. Went to the general P.O. and air-mailed my film, 1,475 pesos. Dropped off the blue carry all and had a steak, 4 eggs, lemonade and cake. Went to the stadium and bought a 750 peso ticket. Killed an hour at the hotel then saw Bolivar beat The Strongest 3-2, the difference being an own goal. A good, lively game. Ate 4 hot dogs near the hotel and soon Linda called. It was nice to hear her voice altho she seemed strangely subdued. Perhaps she felt, like me, that it just made us want to be together all the more and so had a sad side. The spark that provided our attraction for each other has dulled a little from disuse but shall flame up again in July. Being in each other's arms shall make the 7 mo. seem as if they had never passed. 45 days minimum before I see her again. Maybe 9 weeks max.; doesn't seem like so long but I can hardly wait. Will she find she doesn't like me as much once I'm back for awhile or will the attraction hold?"
This is Linda's letter. The date stamp says it was mailed on May 17:
"Dear Kiddo Hi how are you Jim? Am writing you on the eve of the La Paz (address) cut-off - just got another letter from you today and I feel rich - have been getting so much mail from you lately - hope you enjoyed my tank of a letter (never got it) and that it made you feel thought of, because you are. I am still going too fast, and I am still confused. So what else is new? We had another Fort Mango (artist's cooperative) meeting tonight, and still don't know for sure if we're sticking together, moving to the eighth floor, or rolling over and dying, and it's like anything else... the limbo time is the worst, and I want, we all want, to know one way or another so plans can be made , and as far as apt. hunting for me goes, Mango is the deciding factor between looking for an efficiency or a 1 bedroom place. I'd really rather keep living and studio separate - it's good for my head, but the paycheck disappears soon, and I know that whatever I do has to be a bargain. Even with the financial creepiness, I am very glad not to be working this summer and looking forward to both the lazy days and the intense days of concentrating on my own stuff. It's time for life to change, and I want to be going the direction my energy is taking me, even if it's unfamiliar scary-type territory, because I know I'll ultimately be glad I did. So I'm not actually seeing that many alligators on this river, but I know they're in there. Am reading 'Roadmarks' by Zelazny. Have boquets of apple blossums all over the house. It's still cold enough to wear my hat. Archy (the cat) has been snotty. I cut off my nose. I entered a couple drawings in the Minnetonka show - they expanded this year to include prints and drawings, how experimental - the jurying is this week, so we'll see. Entry for the annual W.A.R.M show is soon, and I'm gonna try that again. I want the letter to be longer or say more, and I'm sitting here with not enough space or brains, it's late. I miss you, I wonder when you'll be knocking at whatever door I'm at, I'm looking forward to sharing what we've each done and thought over the last 5 months, I'm looking forward to very many kisses and pizzas and holding of the hands - Love, Linda"
At the time this letter made me feel really good. Looking back at it a quarter of a century later my response is: um, ah, yee-ah.
Wed. May 25, 1983 - "Didn't get out til 2:30 - went to Magri. No lost letter but they directed me to Flota Copacabana (A bus company). 1st I went to have a steak with 4 eggs and lemonade. Changed 20 bucks at 365 pesos to the dollar at the clothing materials place. Walked with a slight headache to the bus terminal which is a cool fuckin' piece of architecture. Bought a ticket to Copacabana for 310 pesos, how economical (less than a buck). Walked all over, climbing a few buildings. The last building was in consruction and some old geezer wouldn't let me go up. I got angry when I left and bashed my tripod against a tree, breaking one of the struts. Stupid! So I never did get a shot (night shot) of La Paz. Bought the new Time and Newsweek and sat in a cafe and had a lemonade and a Pepsi. Sat in my room for 3 hrs. then went back to the Chinese restaurant. Stayed up fairly late reading my new mags."
Copacabana is a litte village on the shores of Lake Titicaca not far from the Peruvian border. The story goes that it's name was originally a Quechua' name like Copacawana or something like that and it got bastardized over the years becasue of it's resemblence to the famous Copacabana in Rio.
Thurs. May 26, 1983 - "Woke at 6 and cabbed to the terminal. Price: 30 pesos, less than 10 cents. I doubled it, generous me. Had time to spare and shot a couple of rolls of the interior of the terminal with the 6x7. First time I'd dragged out the monster since Corumba'. The bus ride had pleasant scenery , topped off by the sight of Copacabana which is a very beautiful place; beautiful light, blue, blue skies. I got a hotel for 200 pesos, 60 cents. Ate then climbed up this hill which offers unbelievable scenery. This is the most beautiful place I've seen in Bolivia and maybe Brazil too. Talked to some Indian woman and some kids, let a little girl take my picture with my camera, and traded my Nivea for some miniature cigarette packs which were part of an array of miniature goods on sale. The idea is that if you somebody a gift in miniature that perhaps the real thing will follow. They had money, axes, shovels, corrugated roofs, toilet paper, cans of food. I sat on the hill for a while then went to the square and shot some photos. Snatched a catnap and climbed the hill again just as the sun sank. Took some pix of me with the flash against the dusk. Talked to some gringo and had the pleasure of seeing the full moon rise from behind the mountains. Took some pix of the city and me and the gringo walked down. I ate a steak and came to the hotel. I feel very good about being in such a beautiful place. Blew bubble gum and heard 'We Are the Champions' and Fleetwood Mac on the bus today. Continued Linda's letter tonight. Read some 'Book of Ptath' (SF by A.E. van Vogt)."
In the days before portable media and the internet I was always struck by how weird it was to here American pop music on a bus full of Indian folks. I remember the Indian lady stuffed next to me left a half eaten potato on my lap that I didn't discover til I left; her little joke I guess. The native Americans of the altiplano are very insular and stand off-ish. Some of this is probably due to their history of exploitation and some of it because of the way tourists take pictures of them all the time without talking to them or asking; they'd told me as much. They didn't like be treated like animals in a zoo while they were going about their business. An old guy leading a mule in Copacabana knew what was up as soon as he saw me in the street with a camera before I'd even raised it and when I did he picked up a rock as if to throw it at me.
I think tourists were put off by the native Americans but I had a good rapport with them. I treated them like anybody else and was always laughing and joking with them Sometimes to the point where my cigarettes ended up in their pocket and their hat on my head. I wasn't intimidated by the Indian folks or put off; they were just folks to me. They actually have quite a sense of humor and love to laugh. These are, of course, generalizations I'm making based on my own contacts but I think they're true as far as it goes.
The hill I speak of in Copacabna is called "Calvario" and is named and modeled after the Catholic 12 Stations of the Cross with which I was quite familiar with having been raised a Catholic and done the ceremony when I was a kid. Twelve Stations marked different parts of the long, twisting, steep stairs that led to the top of the hill in the form of a little shrine. Anyone who'd gone up those steps in that thin air knows that it is indeed a form of penance. I really loved going up to the top of the hill where I spent a lot of time and trucking around the town and it's environs. A really cool little place.
I have quite a collection of the miniature objects I desribe which are very cleverly made. They always have something real inside, rice in a bag of rice, tobacco in a tiny pack of cigs. I still have them after all these years. Indians would come up the hill and buy a little car or house or something and do a little ceremony where they poured beer over the object and say somekind of little prayer. I even got a very nice tiny Bolivian passport and had it stamped at the airport once for a joke. The Bolivian customs guy knew exactly what it was and appreciated the joke.
Fri. May 27th, 1983 - "In the morning I climbed the inland hill, an easy climb but tiring. I think I'm doing pretty good for 4,000 meters, tho. Stayed up there a long time; came down, ate, sat in my room a bit and went back up. Took pix and climbed down in the dark, the treacherous footing feebly lit by the last of the dark. Ate and played with a kitty and went to the hotel. Being up on that hill is great. The sound of bleating sheep, barking digs and an occasional braying donkey drift up from the land below. Read some Ptath."
Sat. May 28, 1983 - "Climbed the 'church' hill (Calvario) as soon as I woke. There were some more miniature gifts on sale than the 1st time. Bought a bag of rice, a bar of soap, toothpaste, a couple boxes of jello, and 7 cans, mostly milk, and blank checks for Linda. Saw a family buy a house, jeep and money which they wrapped in streamers and doused in confetti and beerr. Came down, ate, had a hot shower and gave a boy here some clothes to wash. Before I showered I showed the 2 boys who work here some jump rope. Climbed back up (to Calvario) and freaked out this little girl showing her my flash and camera. My zoom with the tele-converter was popular also. Took 1 shot of me in the sun and numerous shots of the Island of the Sun as well as the rest of the landscape during a lingering dusk. Climbed down by flashlight and then sat on a bench in the plaza a bit then ate. Wrote a tiny bit to Kevin and Linda. Read some Ptath."
Sun. May 29, 1983 - "Slept til I wasn't tired, wrote in journal. Forgot to mention that I spent an hr. last night drawing faces on Simon Bolivar (the Bolivian George Washington on their currency). They were priceless. What fun! Went out to the fields and visited the soccer game. Wandered around the fields taking pix and came back at dusk. Dug out the 6x7 but had no opportunity to use it, instead shooting the silhouette of a truck and the lake. When I got back to the plaza a bunch of drunks who were the 1st to return from the soccer game were dancing in a circle in front of the church. Then came a column of dancers, the men twirling the bowler hatted women as they came down the street. I sat on a ledge and watched them cavort for awhile then ate. Finshed Ptath."
What weed and boredom will do
My room in the hotel was a funny, tiny little room in it's own tower. There wasn't room for much more than the bed which isn't so bad cuz your body heat warms the room at night. One night I smoked a joint and started drawing faces on my Bolivian money out of boredom. I made a Spider-Man face and one I designated 'war-pig'. I was laughing really hard to myself and trying to stifle it cuz the gringos next door knew I was alone and the walls were thin. I could hear them saying, 'Listen, I think he's crying.', which only made me laugh all the harder. Shows what happens when you spend too much time alone. The next day I got a little nervous spending them; I'm thinking, 'Oh, shit, am I doing something the Bolivians would be pissed off about?' I had one devil of a time getting rid of those bills; some of the Indian women looked at them liked they were cursed and wouldn't accept them. I got rid of most of them in the restaurant I always ate at. Thankfully my waiter was always this same 9 year old kid and nobody came from the kitchen to complain. As I look all these years later at this photo of the drawings I did on the Bolivian money it makes me laugh like hell.
That night that I watched the dancers was an amazing experience. To make myself less conspicous I put my scarf up over my face like some of the men did cuz of the cold and sat atop a tall wall lined with Bolivian men which helped to hide my 6 ft., 2 in. height. Eventually new guys came and went and I was able to totally blend in and see this amazing spectacle without the dancers feeling inhibited. The Bolivian women were quite shy about giving their load or baby off to someone and being twirled around. It was almost like a parade as they came down the street in pairs in a totally impromtu display I will never forget. I was the only outsider there that night. There was some kind of festival going on at the time though I didn't notice it at first cuz it was fairly muted and took place mostly in the fields outside the town, thus the soccer game.
Mon. May 30, 1983 - "Rose and fucked around in the plaza, wondering whether I should go to Huatajata. Ate, talked to this girl on a bench then her boyfriend for awhile. Read her sports page and learned that Flamengo lost to Santos 2-1 in Sao Paolo but won 3-0 in Rio yesterday to win it all. Hot dog. Decided to go to Huatajata but bus was full. Took a long walk along a dirt road and came back thru the fields. Took a walk to where boats are to price a trip to the Island of the Sun. Talked on the beach to a guy from Peru for a long time. Ate, went to the hotel."
Tues. May 31, 1983 - "Woke at 7:30 and headed for the Yunguyo bus straitaway. The guy at customs gave my bags a good going over. The bus didn't leave for quite awhile cuz they didn't have enough passengers. The Peruvian border was a breeze, no luggage searched, no request for onward ticket. We shortly arrived in Yunguyo where I changed my peso into soles. The bus waited for a long time and I got to talking to this Aussie mountain climber while we waited and during the very shakey ride into Puno. When we arrived I was approached by some guy who was hustling gringos into hotels for a few soles. The Aussie ran around the corner to cash a cheque cuz he didn't have money to pay for the bus ride. When the bus took off with his pack on top I decided I should wait for the Aussie to direct him to his pack. When he finally took off on a 3-wheel cart after his pace I figured I was free to split but the hotel guy noticed the Aussie had left his plastic bag on the sidewalk so I had no choice but to wait or let it get ripped off. So I put my bags down to wait and the next time I turned around my blue carry-all was gone. The fucker who took it had been bold cuz it was right at my side, but my head had been turned to the hotel guy which is why I was certain he'd seen the thief. I pointed out this fact to 2 cops walking down the street who quickly put the guy into a doorway and cuffed him a few times, then took him to the station. They wanted me to come along but I still had to wait for the fucking Aussie whose fault I felt this all was. When he came we hired a 3-wheel cart to carry our shit and went to the station. After awhile the cops wrung some kind of info out of the hotel guy and took him to the railway station where he was going to try and spot the thief. They came back before too long and when the cop asked me if my bag had contained a miniature tripod I knew they'd found it. The cop took me to a hotel where the other cop was waiting and we went to ta room upstairs and there was my bag, with a few things missing, most notably my South American Handbok. 1 of the cops waited downstairs while me and the other waited in the room, talking about this and that but the theif never showed. Leaving the cop on guard we returned to the waiting Aussie at the station. The cops told me to come back to the station in the morning and the Aussie and I split a room at the Hotel Nesther for 7,500 soles. I helped him get a train ticket to Cuzco and we went to eat but I had little appetite altho I'd not eaten all day. We lay in out beds that night laughing about the girl he had in La Paz who passionately said, 'Poot awn dee glub'."
I cut down the theivery story for the sake of brevity. When I realized my bag was missing I blew my fucking top. I was cursing at the top of my lungs in the street. People who looked at me with odd quizzical looks or smiles, even where I could see them inside of restaurants, I told to fuck the fuck off and mind there own business or what the fuck are you looking at or stop smiling, etc. I knew the hotel guy I'd been talking to had been there to distract me and knew he was in on it. I actually held him there for awhile til I hoped some cop or soldier would wandered by. I told him he had picked on the wrong guy and that he was going to be one sorry motherfucker; and he was. About 15 min. later I spotted 2 cops ambling down the street laughing and conversing. When they drew close I told them the whole story and they were pretty pissed at the hotel guy. They brought him about a half a block up the street where there was an entrance they could go partially into for some privacy and smacked the guy around some. That hotel guy knew exactly where the thieves were staying all along, it just took some little persuasion from the cops to come around.
I remember sitting up in the thieves room and smoking the thieves cigarettes with this cop while we laughed and joked. Those thieves had been looting the city. Their room was full of dress shirts, jackets and what have you. We actually waited a long time.
The story the Aussie and I were laughing about was a story he told me about this Bolivian chick he'd been seeing. When they were making love and the time came for him to put on a condom she called it a glove for some reason. When he mimicked her saying that with a fake accent it was pretty funny. Put on the glove; sure. I had a hard time figuring out how this Aussie got around cuz he sure wasn't a guy who could police his shit. Ironic that I got ripped off instead of him. I was pissed cuz I knew thieves hung around bus stops and stations and train stations and my rule was to get in and out of those areas as quick as possible. Stayed and stayed though cuz of that Aussie and paid the price. Eventually it was the thieves who paid the price cuz I am not a good target for that type of shit as the decoy guy and 2 theives learned to their dismay. Another irony was that other than the South American Handbook, there was not a thing of value in that carry-all they stole; just dirty towels and underwear and spare tripod bolts, shampoo, soap, shit like that.
Wed. June 1, 1983 - "I was a little late to the station but when I got there they had my handbook and a couple of items I'd forgot about. As far as I know I'm missing only my coins, my gloves, my nose hair clipper and my broken tripod handle. Lucky anyway you look at it. I went to the bank and changed $80 in cheques at 1,456 soles to the dollar then went back to the station and we finished up the paperwork and they gave me the addresses where I could write the letters of recommendation to. Later on I took a bus up to the place where they make the reed boats and took photos which wasn't easy. I watched a guy making a boat which was fascinating. I hung around bugging the indians until sunset and then walked a long ways down the road before finally catching a bus the rest of the way. My hotel still doesn't have hot water so I'm still filthy. Finished off Linda's mammoth letter."
When I went to the police station that morning the cops took me to meet the thieves. They were in a cell crammed in with others whose one large barred window faced an open courtyard. The cops called the 2 thieves to the window and all I said was 'Good morning' in spanish. The thieves said nothing, just standing there looking at me. One of the cops roared, 'He said Good Morning' and the thieves both meekly replied 'Buenos Dias' to me. I begged the cops to put me in a room alone with the 2 thieves cuz I was still plenty hot. The cops didn't go for it but I could tell they were certainly worried more about the 2 thieves alone in a room with me than they were about me. I am ashamed to say that I never did send those letters of recommendation just throught sheer laziness and those cops deserved better than that. They solved that robbery in the time it takes to do it on a TV show. To make it worse, I met one of the cops in Puno 2 years later and I he asked me about it and I lied and said I sent them. I feel sheepish about it cuz they sure did me a good turn. It turns out the extra items of mine they'd come up with had been thrown in a garbage and they made the thieves find them.
Lake Titicaca is a famous lake and one of the most notable things about it is how the native-Americans use the tortora reeds to make all kinds of stuff but most famously, their boats. I'd seen this place where they were making boats along the highway coming in so I simply jumped on an outgoing bus and got off a few miles outside of town. Because of the tourists with cameras the indian guy and this boy and woman were very stand off-ish as I sat there with my camera around my neck. When I started to talk to the man about taking pictures he jokingly slid the knife he was using around his neck and said he'd kill me if I took a picture. I could tell he thought that was pretty funny although he kept a pretty straight face. Had a lot of fun with them eventually. It was one of those times where we ended up pretending we were hitting each other, and they grabbed my cigarettes and I snatched a hat and put it on my head. We had a good time laughing and joking that afternoon there on some flat ground near the shore of Lake Titicaca. They were the ones who told me that busses would stop on the highway and a bunch of tourists would get off and start taking pictures without talking to them or anything. At one point some soldiers stopped in a jeep on the highway and got off and started talking to the man and the woman. After the soldiers left I asked them what that was about. They said that sometimes the soldiers came and demanded they turn over matresses made of reed for free. The guy said they didn't do it cuz I was there and negotiated instead but didn't want to pay. The soldiers went away empty handed. Needless to say that was a weird day and a fun afternoon.
Thur. June 2, 1983 - "Fucked up on making it to the (floating) islands. Went to the station but the 2 cops wouldn't be back til 3. Went to the covered market which was nothing. Not feeling so hot. Took a bus back and mailed Linda's letter, but after I ate went back to have it mailed certified. Went to the station and told the cops about the petty items missing and they said to come back tomorrow. Took a nap then went to see what was playing at the 3 cines. When I got back to the hotel and still no hot water (it's cold in Puno) I decided it was enough and looked around for an hour before I found a hotel that let me take a shower out back (in an open yard). It wasn't long before I realized I had some stomach ailment and I laid reading SF, farting and egg-burping. Took a sulpha-guanidino but it didn't seem to do much good. Finally ate a tetracycline which fixed me up, but I was kept up very late.
Every one of the 3 times I entered Peru from another country I immediately got Giardia. You always know it's coming cuz you get these burps with the taste of eggs but you haven't eaten any eggs. You can get it from animal droppings in streams if you drink it or from food that gets feces on it because feces is used as fertiliser. As I mentioned before, for some reason tetracycline knocks it out immediately though I have been told by doctors that that shouldn't happen. Tetracycline is prescription only in the States but no problem in third world countries and I never travel without it.
Fri. June 3, 1983 - "Finally rose around noon and went to the station but nothing. Forgot to mention that the cops introduced me to the thieves on Wed. morning. Anyways, I went and ate fried chicken and 4 eggs then later on took a bus to where the photo loving indians live. Got some nice stuff and walked a long ways back before a guy offered me a ride into town in his pickup as he was stopped at the toll booth. Took a city bus the rest of the way and went to have a pudim, hot chocolate and a Sprite. Took a survey of the cines before going to the hotel and writing in Tues. to now."
Sat. June 4, 1983 - "Hotel woke me at 6:30 and a while later I walked down to the dock. There was some delay as they waited for more gringos to show. The price was 3,000 soles (about $2). It was a chilly ride out despite the sun. The floating islands were weird to walk on. Apparently they are quite old, and judging by the new reeds spread around I would guess the islands are sustained simply by throwing new reeds around every so often. When we arrived some women would have lengths of cloth with designs woven in for sale. Naturally no one liked having their photo taken but I guess I got 1 or 2 decent pix. On the 2nd island I paid for a photo for the 1st time on the trip, 200 soles to a woman with her baby. When we returned it was a nice and warm ride. I looked for some gloves in the market then went to eat. I decided to go on the excursion to the Chulpa ruins of Silustani which weren't much as far as ruins go but were in a decidedly magnificent setting. Price, 2,500 soles plus 150 student admission instead of the regular 600 (I used my old MCAD ID). Gave the cines the once over then ate some cone pastries with cream inside and a butter and jelly sandwich at a cafe."
Sun. June 5, 1983 - "Woke early and took the boat to Taquile, which was a miserably cold ride most of the way even tho the sun was out. The journey took 3 1/2 or 4 hrs., at the end of which we were greeted by a long, steep path which took it's toll on all the gringos. Altho I had planned on leaving the same day I was forced to stay overnight or spend only half an hr. on the island cuz the boat was returning right away. It turned out I would've had to stay anyway cuz the 2:00 boats had to turn back cuz of waves. At the top of the path a reception commitee distributed the gringos among various villagers with whom we stayed for 800 soles, 55 cents, a night. An old lady wordlessly led the way over the hillside to her house. I had a great place to stay. I left right away to go down to the small village to eat. I had an egg and french fries for a thousand and when I was done ran into 2 blokes who wanted to climb up to some ruins also so we chose a hill and split. There wasn't much at the top but it was the highest point on the island and gave great views. When we came to the village I bought 2 candles, some matches, some cookies and a chocolate bar. Decided I didn't want to go right up to my hut so I went to a restaurant in the square which was 1 table, chock full of gringos. Waited an hr. for pancakes before the morons finally said 'No Hay' (No more), then another half hr. for 2 eggs and french fries. In the meantime the sun set and this Dane who thought he had the same place and I split into the darkness. Fortunately the 2 German girls came along with a flashlight and were headed in the same general direction. After we left them the Dane used a tiny penlight he had and we stumbled onto his place. So off I went in the dark, stumbling around in a ferocious wind for 15 min. until I stopped at a house and the man who lived there showed me the way to Senora Rosa's. I split my candles into 4, lit them and laid around thinking was a neat place I had."
Mon. June 6, 1983 - "Boy woke me around 8 with an offer of pancakes which I accepted. I shortly went down into the village for a pop then laid on a rock in a dale before scrambling up a hill, over walls, to which gave a view of the other side of the isle. Went down to a smaller hill with ruins and then to the square, drinking 2 Fanta's and learning the boat was due to leave at noon instead of 2. Bought a scarf for 2,000 soles and me and the 2 blokes (English guys) went down to the boat. The ride back was much warmer than the day before and I used my only my t-shirt. We arrived around 4 and I went to the restaurant had had half a chicken and was shortly joined by the 2 blokes. From there I went to the train station where I bought my buffet to Cuzco for 12,000 soles (about $8.25) after a wait. Went to the hotel and paid my bill, showered and shaved and wrote in today and yesterday then went to the cafe to return my bottles."
A shot I took when the train stopped near Juliaca
Tues. June 7, 1983 - "Got up at 6:30 and headed for the train station, keeping a wary eye out for thieves. Having the buffet car was nice was nice cuz it was mostly unoccupied and one didn't have to worry about thieves. The scenery was very nice and the long ride didn't seem too bad. Ate chicken and also eggs and rice and read Newsweek and Time. We arrived in Cuzco in the late afternoo and headed for the Hotel Cahuide which was okay but a little far from the plaza. Then the gringo couple and I headed for the Hotel Sueca but I wasn't in the mood for a dump so I looked around for awhile and finally decided on the Conquistador for 6,000 soles. ($4) Went to have spaghetti and cake and looked around a bit. Got sick at night and threw up."
Wed. June 8, 1983 - "Woke around 10 and since I was totally broke, went to the bank and changed $80 in cheques at 1,500 soles to the dollar. Visited the market and bought a pair of fingerless gloves for 800 soles, around 50 cents., then went and traded 4 SF paperbacks for 'The Coming of the Terrans' (Leigh Brackett - love her) and 'Pirates of Venus' (Edgar Rice Burroughs - loved him when I was a kid). Ate fish then went to the hotel where I ran into one of the guys who worked there who also was going to the soccer match today between Cienciano (a Cuzco club team) and the national team. If the guy I was with hadn't given a guy in line our money to get us tickets I don't know when I would've gotten in on my own. As it was we missed half of the 1st half and the score was already 1-1. The game was a joke, with more to laugh at than cheer. Peru won 3-2. I walked all the way back. Ate fish for dinner."
Thur. June 9, 1983 -"Showered and hung around the room, finally leaving at 12:30. There was a street all set out with food and I ate some meat on a stick. Had a 2,000 sole platter with guinea pig, maize kernals, fish eggs, kelp, chicken, beef, sausage and cheese. Later on I photographed a procession (in the Plaza de Armas) of saint-idols from the church but went to play pinball as the sun set. Ate in a shitty chicken place then went to a cafe for a couple pieces of apple pie. While I was waiting for this chick to come out of the cafe, 2 cute teen agers came up to me wanting to speak english, so I obliged them and talked to them a long time. After that I spent about 3 hr. playing this pinball machine that had 3 balls come down all at once if you spelled B-L-A-S-T O-F-F. Ate cake and went to the hotel."
I am often surprised in re-reading books from when I was a teenager how often places like Rio and Cuzco are mentioned which I completely forgot about; I mean to say that I am not sure where that original impetus to come to see these places didn't come from my subconscious from having read those books when I was a teenager. I loved Cuzco; it is one of those places that is a must visit in terms of world travel. It's importance in the history of the Spanish conquest cannot be underestimated. Many of the buildings have the original pre-Columbian foundations intact to a height as tall as I am. To think that Pizarro himself may have brushed a wall past which I walked is staggering. Cuzco is also the centerpiece of an amazing blend of native-American and colonial history. Imagine if the original foundations of Tenochtitlan were intact and you begin to understand what you can experience in Cuzco. Sacsahuayman is a fortress built above the city before the coming of the Spanish and was the scene of a mighty battle between the Incas and the Spanish. The phrase 'dripping with history' is totally accurate when it comes to Cuzco. I was so fascinated by this area that I would visit it 2 more times before the decade was out. The city of Cuzco was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site that year of my first visit in 1983.
Fri. June 10, 1983 -"Slept very late. Started 'Beast-Jewel of Mars' last night and finished it today together with 'Mars Minus Bisha' and most of 'Last Days of Shandakor'. Read all of 'Pirates of Venus' today. Didn't do much."
My shot of La Campania Church on
the Plaza de Armas
Sat. June 11, 1983 - "Read '...and then she found him' from 'No Limits' and went to trade 'No Limits' and 'Pirate...' for 'The Mastermind of Mars'. Went to the train station but the local wasn't running tomorrow. (The 'local' was the 1st-3rd class and much cheaper 'indian train' as opposed to the express 'gringo train' that went by Machu Picchu) Missed going back cuz on the way to the station I noticed a replay of the Flamengo-Santos 2-1 game (the 2nd leg of the championship) and rushed to the hotel to watch. Also watched Donnie and Marie and a Beatles cartoon (I sometimes loved watching bad American TV dubbed in spanish). Later on I went to see 'Galaxy of Terror'. Got to the theatre an hr. early so I started 'Mastermind of Mars' while a scratchy slow record played imitation Bee Gee's. Afterwards ate 3 eggs with toast and apple pie. Before that I watched the nut gringos prance and took some pix of the lit up church."
Sun. June 12, 1983 - "Woke at 5 AM and quickly made my way up to Sacsahuayman thru the dark, them did dim dawn light. Only took a couple of pix. Had my stomach problem and also had to shit real bad so I didn't get to the hotel none too soon. Slept and left the hotel resolved to staying a couple more days, buying a guide book and church ruins package ticket. However the tourist office was closed all day and the rudeness of the bookstore owner stopped me from buying a guide book. Played the pins off and on today, watched some NBA from 1982 and a replay of the Flamengo-Atletico playoff in Rio, 3-0 for Flamengo. Ate fish then walked to the station but the ticket office was closed. Not being able to find any tetracycline stopped me from going back to buy a ticket later on since I didn't want to be stuck in Aguas Calientes without pills the way my stomach has been. Went to the hotel just before 7 and caught up on the last couple days."
Mon. June 13, 1983 - "Woke at 7 and went to the train station and sat around a long time before I learned the ticket office wouldn't open til 11 AM. Hit the pharmacy but it was closed. Went to the bank to check the rate; 1,510 soles to the dollar then cashed $60 for 1,550 at a business office (better rate away from the banks). Squeezed in some pinball and finally got some tetracycline and shampoo then went to the hotel to shower and pack, leaving my gear downstairs while I went to the station and bought my 1st class passage to Machu Picchu for 2,150 soles. Met a gringo from Texas, a hardboiler like me and we ate together in the plaza. Killed an hr. playing the pins then cabbed to the station. Lots of food passed me and the Texan while on that train: Guinea pig, cheese cakes, roasted meat, fried fish, tamales, popcorn, roasted maize, hard-boiled eggs, etc. (Most of it sold by bowler-hatted Bolivian women in their voluminous skirts). The journey lasted about 4 hrs. Got a hotel for 1,000 and ate with the Dutch couple. We talked for a long time and turned in reading 'The Mastermind of Mars'."
I'm always writing how I "went" here and "went" there. That almost always meant I walked. I was very conscious of my budget and a great walker. Walking is how I checked out everything and I don't think it was unusual for me to walk miles in a day. Next choice was a city bus if it was convenient and the way was long cuz city busses were very cheap. I took taxis only when necessary, usually between hotel and transport. I liked taking city busses cuz you got to see a lot of the ordinary side of the culture, little things that stuck in one's memory. I still remember the busses in La Paz, Bolivia; whenever one wished to stop the indians would cry out, "Esquina, maestro" to the driver - "esquina" is a corner or a block. I liked walking much more and stuck my nose in everthing. Trucking like that was my main activity and how I got to know a place; it had always been the first thing I did on arriving in a place and luckily I had a great sense of direction and almost never got lost. All that waking was soon to come in very handy in just a few days.
In 1983, Aguas Calientes was an aglomerration of shacks in a canyon that ran back from the railroad track and Urubamba River, eventually ending in a hot springs from which the village got it's name. This was really the only place to stay if you wanted to hang out in the area. The river and tracks themselves occupy a narrow gorge with steep sides and so that is how the space of the village came to be. In looking at the internet in 2009 I laugh at how my hotel was 65 cents and that the entrance to Machu Picchu cost about $5. Aguas Calientes is now incredibly built up but in my day was a lazy, tiny village. Most tourist blew through on the train right to the nearby ruins and so I had little company. As I am proof reading and making corrections to this in Cairo in Feb., 2010, 3 to 4 thousands tourists have just been evacuated out of Aguas Calientes following mudslides that stranded them from torrential rains. When I was there there was no facilities for that many people and only shacks to stay in like mine as I recall. The nearby head of the Inca Trail is sold out for months to come even though some 500 people a day are allowed to hike it. When I hiked it in 1985, I was alone but for a couple other people. The Trail has turned into a total tourist shithole and I would not hike it now for anything.
Tues. June 14, 1983 - "Woke at 5 AM but laid there a long time. When I left I patted a dog on the head and he followed me all the way to the ruins, a long and sweaty climb (the bus up didn't start til later). Took a few pix, put out a fire who's smoke was fucking up my pix and slowly made my way to where the path to Huayna Picchu starts. It was a long climb but the views were stupendous. Met a bloke and we descended the other side to find the Temple of the Moon. We went about halfway down then gave up. Unfortunately the dog couldn't get up the tricky part (He had only 3 legs) and we left him. Hope I see him tomorrow. My legs were plain tuckered out near the end of the climb and I was dry (thirsty) as shit. Had a pop and a cone then sprinted to catch the bus as it was leaving. The driver didn't ask to see a ticket (cuz no one was crazy enough to climb up from the river and the bus fare you paid at the bottom was for 2 ways) so I got a free ride. Walked back to town and ate more spaghetti with the Dutch and said good-bye to them after I grabbed my tripod. When I got below the ruins tho I learned no busses were going so I hitched a ride on the train back to town. Ate a pancake, arranged to have some clothes washed then headed for the thermal baths which were fucking great. I absolutely loved it in the gathering dusk (it was outside). Soaped and shampooed. Went to have a pop afterwards and found they had a cassette of 'Woodstock' so I highed out on 'Sweet Judy Blue-Eyes', 'Sea of Madness' and 'Wooden Ships', with Ten Years After to boot. Fuck was I in heaven. Went to the hotel and wrote in today and yesterday. Went to eat in 'my place' but sat there half an hour for nothing cuz I hadn't understood they'd said they'd had no food. Ate beefsteak 'n' rice with fries at another place."
Wed. June 15, 1983 - "Gave myself a break today and slept late. Didn't leave the hotel til just before mid-day. Ate spaghetti and went to catch a bus up to the ruins. Shot all afternoon and told them I'd had permission to stay late but had too leave. Shot til the sun went behind the mountains. Took a few with a blue filter. Had to go down the path with a little light. Heard there was going to be a strike and no train tomorrow but I didn't care. Skipped the baths tonight."
Thur. June 16, 1983 - "Woke very early and went to the ruins. Shot all morning and used the polarizer some. In the afternoon I climbed way up to the pass (the last one when finishing the Inca Trail hike which ends in Machu Picchu) and got down in time to catch the last bus down at 2:30 Went to the baths. Been eating lots of spaghetti and bananas. Working on Kevin's letter."
Fri. June 17, 1983 - "Woke in the morning and spent hrs. in the restaurant with the guy from Lima I 1st met in Copacabana. Went to the baths. Finished Kevin's letter and started one to ma."
Sat. June 18, 1983 - "Woke midmorning and the sky was so clear. I decided to go to the ruins. The busses weren't going (cuz of the train strike) so I had to walk up that damn path. By the time I got there the light wasn't good. Got some good shots in the late afternoon. Shot the last few frames of my 2nd roll of Ektachrome 64. Went down the path and when I got back I hit the bath. Had a spaghetti and a pancake and wrote in the last few days. Bought a pineapple. Changed $20 cash at 1,500 soles to the dollar."
Sun. June 19, 1983 - "No hay tren. Laid the afternoon away. Finished 'The Mastermind of Mars' last night. Tanked up on spaghetti and then noodle soup. Went and slept. Ate more spaghetti, read lots of grammar."
Mon. June 20, 1983 - "Assholes still on strike. They're making me eat up Guatemala money. All the other gringos are walking the 20 miles out but I'm stuck with my unwieldy baggage (A Samsonite plastic suitcase and a tote bag). What a fuck up, but I've not been letting it worry me. Finished 'Purple Priestess of the Mad Moon' and read the last of the collection, 'The road to Sinharat', an excellent tale. Picked up 'Liltih' again. Sat in my room a long time before leaving. Ate spaghetti. Having rigged a rope of my suitcase I have determined to leave as early as possible tomorrow morning for Chilca, some 21 miles from here. With luck I can make it to Cuzco to catch the bus to Lima at 7 AM Wed. morning. Changed $10 cash at 1,500 soles to the dollar. Went to the baths, ate bisteak, read 'Lilith'."
At that time in Aguas Calientes there was no bus from the village to the area at the base of the mountain from where one could catch busses way up to the ruins; there was no road into A.G, just the tracks. The busses went up a steep zig zag road that was so long it would have been too much of a chore to walk. Luckily I had discovered a steep path that cut directly up to the top. My recollection is that it's about 2 kms from Aguas Calientes along the tracks and through a train tunnel to get to the train and bus station. Since the train was on strike I had to climb the path if I wanted to get to the ruins. My recollection was that it took me about 45 min. to climb up and 30 to go down. I always had my camera back and tripod so it was tough but I was pretty hardened by that time. It was nice to do photography in the ruins of Machu Picchu without any tourists whatsoever. I found something on the internet just now as I write this in 2009 that says it's 8 km. and takes 2 hours to get to the ruins but they are probably describing the entire length of the switchback road up to the ruins which I would never walk.
Machu Picchu by James May
The peak next to the ruins, Huanya Picchu has a steep and very slick path with sheer drop offs and no rails whatsoever. I can't imagine it's like that now because it was truly dangerous. It seems to be a hallmark of Third World countries that much of what they do on a daily basis would be totally illegal in the United States. At the tiny top are some terracing and ruins. Being up there is the only time in my life I really understood the use of the term dizzying. It is one steep perch. I regret I didn't know more about some of the other trails in the area other than the famous Inca Trail which I knew about but didn't do cuz I was stupid enough to bring a suitcase and not a back pack. Like I said earlier, I didn't originally plan this trip with so much back packing in mind and the part I did plan to do that, Guatemala, I had arranged to have my pack waiting for me when I arrived. Having that suitcase was terribly stupid in light of the fact that I would have to walk out of Aguas Calientes. Machu Picchu is one of the world's top places to visit in the entire world in my opinion. I can't imagine living a life without having visited it. One could easily spend weeks in the area with all the trails, culture and other ruins around. I feel lucky to have been there 3 times; 1983, '85 and '88
Tues. June 21 - "Woke when it was dark and soon set out. It was so hard to carry all my shit I almost turned back after 2 km. The rope dug into my collarbone causing much pain, but I was determined. Had to stop often and made terrible time, only 15 km. by 1:30, signposts 110 to 95. Decided to wait in this berg for the mini-train but they passed me by. 2 hrs wasted. Unhappily I carried on and reached Km. 88 30 min. after dark, in the moonlight. (Km 88 is the famous jump off point for the Inca Trail). Bought a beer from this guy who pointed out a place across the tracks where I could have soup and also offered to carry my stuff the next day. So I ate soup and 4 packages of cookies and my hosts also gave me some herbal tea. We talked by the light of a dim candle and the man graciously offered to let me use the dirt floor for the night and gave me 2 dirty blankets and something to lie on. I slept with tiny bugs."
It wasn't the weight I was carrying that was so bad but the ropes that cut into me even though I used a towel as padding. Between my heavy camera bag, tote bag and suitcase, it was a lot of stuff to carry. It would have been do-able with a back pack. I truly learned the meaning of a kilometer that day. In looking back it's hard to believe I walked 22 kilometers which is almost 14 miles. There were kilometer markers all along the train tracks I walked on which by the way made the walking much worse. The markers are how Km. 88 got it's name cuz other than it being the place hikers got off to start the Inca Trail, there was nothing there in 1983. The guy who let me sleep on his floor and was so friendly to me was some kind of park ranger. He may have been one of those guys who collected the entrance fee to Machu Picchu from the Inca Trail hikers who came into Machu Picchu by the back door so to speak.
For some reason I didn't care that I wasn't hiking the Inca Trail. I didn't have the equipment to do it and that's for sure but I probably could've rented some; that would've been an incredible hassle in 1983. Good hiking gear just wasn't around that area in those days. I might not have regretted not hiking the trail because I had already resolved that I would be back someday. I would come back and hike the Inca Trail in 1985 and 1988. Part of the problem for me is that it is hard to have a pack, a sleeping bag and a tent when you're a photographer on a trip lasting months. I eventually did start traveling with that stuff but the film took up an enormous amount of space. In the years to come I would get into climbing volcanos and hiking more. I bought a compact, light tent, light 30 degree sleeping bag and a back that could double as luggage while taking the abuse that comes with long distance hikes. That abuse comes to ones body as well. You need a pack that has internal rigid struts and a waist strap so you can put much of the weight on your hips.
I can still distincly remember those fleas in the dirty blankets crawling around as I went to sleep that night. As I lay there I felt grateful the long day was over and didn't mind a dirt floor or a few bugs in the least. In looking back on the way I did things it's amazing that such an idiot could have so much fun and somehow do so many things the right way.
Wed. June 22, 1983 - Woke stiff but refreshed and agreed to pay this guy 5,000 soles ($3.25) to carry my stuff. We walked 8 km. non-stop and stopped to rest and saw a bus and decided to wait longer for it to return, I foolishly passing up 2 pickup truck rides. So, the empty bus came and do you think those assholes would give us a ride? Fuck no!. So, we walked 3 more km. to Chilca, and waited for a very long time before I was able to get a ride in a small pick up truck squeezed in the back with 20 other people. Went to Urubamba for 1,000 soles and shortly got a bus to Cuzco for another 1,000. The nightmare was over. My collarbones were thankful. Cabbed to a hotel and left my stuff there while I ate fish and checked out a couple other hotels. Went and got my stuff and checked into a hotel for 3,000 soles. Showered, ate cake and spent the rest of the night playing pinball. Wrote to Ma."
That guy who carried my stuff that day simply wrapped my tote bag and suitcase in a blanket and slung it over his soldier. A simple yet ingenious solution that would never have occurred to a city boy like myself. Later I used the theory of how this guy and Guatemalan indians carried stuff when moving into apt. where I was always on the top floor. You can stack 3 boxes on your back and march up stairs as easy as carrying just one in front of you. I think this guy was a porter at one time for tourists who hiked the Inca Trail; in any event, whether hiking a trail or not, that is how the local indigenous folks carried stuff.
One thing I'd like to mentioned is something that happened in Cuzco during my stay there before I went to Machu Picchu. One night I was hanging out in my room in the Hotel Condor and a bomb went off at the National Guard Station around the corner and another simultaneously knocked out the towns power grid outside of town and all the lights went out. There was some sporadic machine gun fire and that was that. I cannot for the life of me remember why I didn't write about it in my journal. It was fairly late and I was in for the night and may have forgot to figuring that I'd never forget about it anyway. Originally, this journal was kept with the idea that another human being would never read it. Just in case however, and being in the 3rd world, I kept by references to smoking weed quiet though I don't think I smoked all that much. The other curious thing is that the exact same thing happened almost exactly 2 yrs later to me in the exact same hotel. Now that's weird. The Sendero Luminoso, The Shining Path in english, were a terrorist group who were causing quite a lot of trouble at the time. Ayacucho, a town in the highlands was strictly off limits the 3 times I was in Peru in '83, '85 and '88 because of rebel activity. A bomb exploded in the train station in Cuzco in '86, killing 7 people. Peruvian newpapers were very quite about all this; one had to go into neighboring Bolivia and their papers were full of it.
Thur. June 23, 1983 - "Woke at 9 but got to the bank at 11:10, just after it closed. (these people and their freaking siestas nearly drove me nuts the whole trip) Lucky for me an old guy came up and offered to change my cheques so I did, $40 at 1,554 soles to the dollar. From there I went to trade 2 SF books but for some obscure reason I had to return later. Ate 2 pieces of apple pie, played the pins and bought a bus ticket for Lima for 25,000 soles, $16. Ate 4 eggs and wandered slowly to the bookstore, watching the endless parade. Traded for 'The Broken Lands' by Saberhagen. Ate pizza and spent a lot of the night playing pinball."
Fri. June 24, 1983 - "Woke at 8 but I just laid in bed for an hour and a half. Mailed off letters to Kevin and Ma. Changed a $20 cheque at 1,540 soles to the dollar. Had a banana drink, 4 eggs and apple pie. Sat in the park then walked up to the ruins for a glimpse at Inti Rayni. I really fucked up by no buying a ticket, 5,000 soles, til the good stuff and sunshine for photos were over. Ate a pizza. I'm really behind my schedule and I can't see getting back to the U.S. by Aug. 1st. Today is the 177th day of my trip, 100 days longer than my last. Half of a year of my life and well spent. I've been to all the classic spots of South America: Rio, Salador, Amazon River, Manaus, Bolivia, Lake Titicaca, Cuzco and Machu Picchu. I started my 3rd roll of Ektachrome 64 today. I have too much 6x7 film left so I'll have to crack down in Guatemala and Mexico. Peru's been great but the people suck. What a great trip it's been, surpassing my expectations. It'll now be good to get back to my books, pulps, baseball on TV on a warm summer evening, music on headphones with a lit candle late at night, football, hockey. Hope Barry-Richards (My gallery) has some bread for me, cuz except for the State Fair (shooting it) I'd like to take it easy in Aug. But between getting an apt., starting up my biz and hitting the darkroom I doubt if I'll be able to. Can't wait to make lot's of 16x20's (prints). I should have some pretty decent 6x7's of Brazil. I'll have some reshoots to do in MPLS; the telephone booth, Jiffy, the green door, Jiffy with snow (these were just some night shots I'd done). I have no idea if I'll still have it for Linda when I get back but I'd guess yes. Just took a very cold shower then stood in the doorway of my hotel in my shorts and got a good laugh at the looks I got cuz it's cold out. Had late apple pie."
When I wrote "the people suck" I would qualify this statement by saying that Peruvians were the least compassionate people I have ever met while traveling; the exact opposite of the Brazilian '"sympatico" of which I wrote. I don't know how many times that mini-train thing passed me on my 14 mile walk out of Aguas Calientes and their were a number of other incidents too trivial to mention. One of those was the way the soldiers beat people with sticks who were waiting in line to buy tickets for the soccer game I went to in Cuzco.
Sat. June 25, 1983 - "Morons woke me at 5 AM, too early. Brought my luggage out then came back to wait in my chilly room. A gringo got ripped off at the (bus) office before we left but got his shit back. The thieves in Cuzco are incredible. The bus hit some scary dirt roads where the wheels of the bus weren't far from sheer drop offs. The boredom of the trip was relieved by the total of 5 passport checks where all the gringos were made to get off the bus to show their passports. The humor of the Commonwealth boys helped too. I grabbed some sleep during a very uncomfortable and chilly night."
The first part of the 41 hour ordeal of a bus journey was through this mountainous landscape that looked like the moon. My seat was the last on the right. We would commonly come so close to the edge of a dirt road with a sheer drop-off that I was simply looking straight down into an abyss. I was scared shitless. The roads were dirt with no shoulders and the edges of the drop-off's was loose dirt. It's no surprise to me that one so frequently reads about busses ending up at the bottom of a ravine.
This bus ride was maybe the most memorable in terms of gaining a appreciation of what a great sense of humor English folks had. Being roused out of a bus 5 times during one night to be marched into these checkpoints to answer questions from soldiers was irritating. Only the gringos had to get off the bus so all the other folks on the bus were irritated with us. The questions were routine and always the same: 'Where are you from. What is the purpose of your visit to Peru?' Maybe the 3rd or 4th time these English guys knowing the soldiers didn't speak any english, answered in english, 'We're here to destroy military installations' Then the soldier would say 'What?' and the gringo would answer properly in Spanish. It was really hard not to break up laughing. I don't remember how many times they did this but it was more than once.
Another time, in 1985 and also in Peru, a group of us in a van were marched into a station for a routine check like this and we had to fill out a logbook. A couple of english tourists wrote their names as 'Captain America' and Abraham Lincoln; I joined in too on that occasion and put my name down as Spider-Man.
Sun. June 26, 1983 - "Bus stopped early in a town where I finally threw off the chill of the night. Washed my hair in Nazca. After 41 hrs. we arrived in Lima at 1:30 AM. The commonwealth boys were scared to leave to go to their hotel late at night cuz they were afraid to walk the streets if our hotel was full. But me and 3 other gringos took a cab (No way I was sleeping on a bus locked in a garage after 41 hrs) for 2,000 soles to the Hotel Europa, 3,800 a night with their stupid taxes. Went out for a Coke. Changed $5 earlier at 1,400 soles to the dollar when I was broke and wanted to eat."
Mon. June 27, 1983 - "Left the hotel around 11 AM and headed for Eastern Airline's offices. I really lucked out and got a flight for 10:30 tha night (Lima-Guatemala City with a plane change in Panama City). While waiting for the confirmation on the Panama City-Guatemala City part, I changed $30 at American Express at 1,560 soles to the dollar. Ate in a rip-off restaurant; bought Time and Newsweek and a Miami Herald and walked around a lot. Had some pudim that was very close to the real thing. Showered and my 4,000 soles Transhotel van picked me up and I went to the airport. At 10:30 PM, on the 180th day of my sojourn in South America, I flew away from that continent. 19 hotels, 10 long distance bus rides, 3 planes, 3 boats, 3 trains of traveling. Rio, 74 days, Sao Sebastiao 1 1/2, Curitiba 3, Foz d'Iguassu 4, Rio 4, Salvador 7 1/2, Belem 6 1/2, Santarem 5, Manaus 5, Cuiba 3, La Paz 7, Copacabana 5, Puno 5 1/2, Cuzco 6, Aguas Calientes 7 1/2, Cuzco 2 1/2, Lima 1 day. 28 books, 13 movies.
A long and eventful 6 mos. with so many dreams brought to life A trip that surpassed expectations. Hot nights that now seem so long ago in Brazil. Those days in Rio. I crossed the continent, ocean to ocean; jungle, coast, river, mountain, desert. And strange names; Urca, Puno, Belem, Cuiba', Machu Picchu, Taquile, Manaus. I learned portuguese and improved my spanish. I have seen so many strange and wonderful things; and utter poverty but not utter misery. 2 Copacabanas. Much pinball and pudim. Good photography and carefree days with good luck. Being alone much but little lonliness. Filling my eyes with things they wanted to see for so long. What might come next: Athens, Istanbul, Samakand, Nepal, Katmandu, a houseboat in India, the Nile, Tahiti, Ecuador, the Galapagos, back to Rio? What will happen in some distant place on some warm day? I'll let my dreams tell me where to go.
New Year's, Carnival, Sugarloaf, Corcovado, Copacabana, Amazon, cement barge, Machu Picchu; what a great way to go. The years will make romantic these days and stain my eyes with rose. I have seen more in my 28 years than have most and it has enriched my life. I wonder if I'll ever be able to run off for 7 mo. again? Let me end with thoughts of warm nights in Rio, of mysteries revealed, of the strange becoming familiar and finally loved. Still, close nights in far places. Nights which will meet me and embrace me again as two lovers embrace on Aug. nights.
This has been the cloying redolence of cinnabar, the smoky center of a haughty, scarlet jewel, the lament of a caged bird with jade plummage, of antique lapis-lazuli weathered by still drops, one after another."
And so that was my last entry on the last page of that journal. I would have to buy a new one in Guatemala. Evidently I had been reading too much of Leigh Brackett's purple prose and yet it symbolized how I romanticized that trip. It didn't take years for me to look back on those days with rose colored glasses; I was doing so before ever I left South American. In transcribing this journal, it is the first time I have wholly read these entries in more than 25 years.
It's difficult to express how much this trip meant to me. It was my coming of age, my testing of my limits and my character and my spirit. It showed what kind of a man I was and I was mostly satisfied. I loved that trip. I loved the way I did it. I liked the daring I'd sometimes displayed, the resolve to carry a thing through and according to a plan. It was a great trip and I recommend the backpacking circuit to everyone. It is a rite of passage for many young Europeans; in Australia they call it "Waltzing My Maltilda".
In 2009 the backpacking circuit is alive and well all over the world though alas many places once celebrated among the backpacking fraternity are now crowded and expensive. Nevertheless there are still many very cheap and less frequented destinations because it is a very big world with wonders too many to count. Part of the reason things are more expensive is the expansion of Latin American economies. Part of the reason is the undeniable spectacular nature of destinations such as Machu Picchu and the general environs of Cuzco. There is only so much space around a popular destination sometimes and an infrastructure grows through the years that makes access more restrictive and expensive. In 1985 I went back to South America and did a very similar version of this 1983 trip. I kept a close eye on my expenses that 2nd trip and I figured I'd spent $13.25 a day. The 1983 trip was probably very similar in cost; it was cheap and that is for sure.
That is why going to a place like Lombok, Indonesia and climbing the Rinjani Caldera or hiking through 100 miles of Guatemalan jungle are still such satisfying activities. These and countless other wonderful places are still fairly difficult to get into and there is very little tourism built around them and so they can be very cheap. I have climbed Pacaya Volcano 7 times when it was free and one had to brave the possiblity of bandits. Simply climbed up through these tiny villages on it's slopes and that was that. Now, you have to pay to climb and there are an enormous number of agencies in Antigua, Guatemala that will escort you up Pacaya Volcano. The first time I climbed there were none and that first time was actually on this 1983 trip and you will soon be reading about it.
I shouldn't write as if the trip was over, far from it. I still had a month more to go and there would be some fantastic moments. As you have seen, you can pack a lot of traveling and fun into 1 month. And now: Guatemala.
Tues. June 28, 1983 - "Arrived in Panama City about 2 AM to find the idiots had lost my luggage. I was too stunned to throw a fit. Spent an uncomfortable and because of the air conditioning, chilly night at the airport, grabbing maybe 3 hr. sleep in a chair. At 8 AM I was on a plane for Guatemala City. Got a great view of all the volcanos on arrival. Waited at the airport all day to talk to a lady who worked for Iberia and in the process met a sexy girl named Gloria who worked at a souvenir counter and asked her out. Got the lady at Iberia to send of a telex and took a bus to centro. Ate 2 meat sandwiches, stopped at Mc's. Got a room at my old hotel, The Espana, at $2.75 a night. Changed a $20 check at the airport. Met Gloria at 6 and we walked, talked, sat in the plazas, visited a church and we sat in a cafe for awhile before she bussed home shortly before 9. I went to Mc's and loaded up on cheeseburgers which I took to 'The Sword and the Sorcerer' which I liked more than ever. Went to the hotel and shortly slept."
Both Guatemala and the Hotel Espana and I already had a history when I arrived in 1983. In 1977 I spent the summer after my 1st year in college at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design with my best friend Joe in the Yucatan, Belize, Guatemala and Mexico. That trip pretty much lasted the whole summer, about 2 1/2 months. In 1979, after my 3rd year at MCAD we did a similar version, this time letting Joe's younger brother Chris come along. That trip started in Guatemala and we went on to Honduras and Costa Rica. That trip was 2 months and 1 weeks. We always stayed in the Espana cuz it was cheap and safe though spectacularly lacking in charm. Gringos didn't stay there for the most part, just Guatemalan travelers and businessmen. The Espana was also in a cool neighborhood that had some little bit of bizarre nightlife where most of the capital closed down at night in those days.
I had a fantastic time on both trips and loved Guatemala in particular. Guatemala is like one of those Chinese boxes that you can open again and again and there is always another box inside. Guatemala has a very strong culture and can have quite an effect on Americans and Europeans. The natural beauty and culture can be stunning for so small a country. The Mayan ruins of Tikal are in their own way an equal to Machu Picchu and an absolute must see for anyone who considers themselves a traveler.
A couple of years ago their was a TV series called "1,000 Places To Visit Before You Die". There are not 1,000 places to visit on the Earth before you die; that's stretching things quite a lot. However, both Tikal and Machu Picchu could arguably be on a top ten list. It depends on what your thing is. My own list, besides Machu Picchu/Cuzco and Tikal would also include the Greek Island of Santorini, Batur Caldera on the island of Bali, Lake Atitlan in Guatemala, the Iguassu' Falls, The Parthenon and Rio de Janeiro and Carnaval. I haven't seen the Great Pyramid but that would for sure be on my list. These are true world class destinations, not like trumped no-places like New Orleans or Las Vegas which are nothing more in my own estimation than game show shitholes for white trash.
I had got a small taste for volcanos on the 1979 trip and was particularly anxious to expand on that. I had xeroxed maps from a 23 volume book at the University of Minnesota Library called "Volcanos of the World". Remember that this was before the internet and so good information was hard to come by. I knew no one who had climbed Pacaya and Santa Maria volcanoes which were the 2 I was concentrating on and so I came armed with all the info I could. My South American Handbook had some good information about climbing those volcanos and a few others.
Information wasn't impossible to come by when it came to hiking in Guatemala just specialized. I had bought a limited edition book in Guatemala in 1979 that had some obscure trails to climb around Lake Atitlan but it was only available in Guatemala. It had a companion volume about the popular Guatemalan volcanos. Also, there is the prospect that there is a lot of local interest in their own volcanos and I would try and cash in on this. In 2009 you can get on the internet and get a ton of information on climbing just about any volcano in the world in addition to numerous guide books.
Wed. June 29, 1983 - "Woke before midday and went to centro. Picked up my box (with an old, warm high school jacket and my backpack) at the P.O. and met a guy there who changed $60 in checks at 1.30 Quetzals to the dollar. He gave me a ride to Mc's and then I walked to the hotel to drop off the box. Busse to Clark Tours (another American Express rep.) to pick up my mail, 3 from Ma and 1 from Linda. Linda didn't sound as romantic as in other letters and expressed small doubts about us. Took the wrong bus to the airport so I missed Gloria but got the stunningly good news that my lost luggage would be arriving on an 8:30 flight. Bussed back to center but on the way decided to stop off at the tourist office. There I talked to a man about the volcanos and he warned me not to climb them alone because of robberies. From there I bussed to centro and went to a bookstore and bought 'Tarzan At the Earth's Core', 'Tarzan and the Ant Men' and 'Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar' and a collection of horror stories for 25 cents each. Bought a Newsweek and this journal. Went to Mc's then the hotel, then the airport. Gleefully picked up my bags then went to the hotel. Left to take 6x7's; got one of a strip joint. Started to drizzle, got back about 1 AM."
This is Linda's letter:
"Sat. June 4 Jim - Here's to ya from late night Saturday, warm weather beginning to smell like Minneapolis summer; just your sort of evening, and all the windows open - I can hear an occasional hot car/motorcycle on Lyndale. Am in the middle of the home stretch mad dash to finish the school year... particularly intense this time as there's no summer program and therefore no room for loose ends. Got 4 more days and I'm trying not to think too much of everything else - just kinda take one project at a time and not scatter myself - takes willpower as I have a natural penchant for distracting myself and engaging in free form panic, especially when I know a lot needs to get done. So, I'm doing school stuff, then I'll get on to moving, packing, finding a place... stell am not sure where I'm going. I'm feeling open to a lot of possible situations. My preference would to get aplace on my own, but that will kind of depend on finances. A communtiy huse would be okay too if everybody isn't into shared meals of tofu... I like the camaraderie that sort of thing offers, but I really do need to be guaranteed some privacy and silince too. Whatever. I guess I'll just figure this out by looking around a lot and waiting for my insticncts to tell me when I've found somepalce I want to live, and go with what it turns out to be. I DO know when I'm moving; we're getting out of here by July 1. Christi is going to move into a garage in a nice neighborhood (it's a fairly homey garage)
Sunday.
So. Back of all this school/moving stuff to do I'm real excited about summer and having time to kick out the jams on my artwork, and be out in the air, and ride my bike... take the chance to really give something else a good shot. I've made deals with the school and time, and that's been alright in many respects - got me through financially and provided some regularity and predictability in my life when I really needed that. Now I feel I want to look at other ways to set up my income, and my time, and these free months are a chance to do some of that.
You're going to have a pretty intense time upon your return... I think about all you've got to do - culture switch, get yourself set in a place, become a darkroom junkie... seems like a lot of stuff you wanted has come your way and life is pretty different than it was a year ago. What do you think about that, Jim? Can you be glad, and sentimental, and anxious, and excited at the same time? That's the way changes hit me anyway.
Monday, June 6
Three more days of school and I just keep doing this letter piecemeal. I hope (though I guess I assume otherwise) that you might have gotten that long letter I wrote you - the winter tribunal. I feel badly that you don't have access to that information, and even though I told you some of it when we talked on the phone, letters are different and can absorb what's there, and on the phone you don't catch and remember everything. I feel I had a pretty major winter, and I wanted you to hear that, a lot of it is resolution about work, and art, my family, and how I want to live. And I have a core of strength more than I used to I think, and trust it.
Saw Andy and Liz at the Black Forest yesterday - they asked about you and said hello. Am continuing this after a long nap, yawn. - the last couple of weeks have been real marathon and I'm getting stuff done, but think I'm also getting a little flakey. Friday is going to arrive like over-running a staircase, if you know what I mean, going up and up and fast and all of a sudden the last 2 steps you take aren't there. It'll probably take a few days before I understand it's summer. Yesterday a woman I know - not real well, but a couple pleasant contacts - called and said a mutual friend had told her I was looking for a place and wanted to know if I was interested in splitting her apt. with her, so, ?, I'm going to talk tomorrow with her and who knows. It would be going back to the old neighborhood, Hennepin-Lake, just a block from where I used to live, and whether that would be good or crummy really tell. I had a dream this morning of walking through the area trying to decide, looking at the stores that had moved, still pissed about the new Walker library. Am really itching to get out of here - knowing it has to happen makes me want to have it done and settled, and get on with summer, hair pulling time. I'm usally kind of a take it slow, process at leisure type of person, and moving fast always gets me a little peculiar. Ah well. I feel like this whole letter is my rambling about these 2 issues. - which is what my head is currently full of but may not be making the most interesting letter for you. Hey, I don't really know what to say. It's been a long time, and it's not like a conversation - you seem distant. I mean, I know you're out there, but it's hard to express myself to you as if the contact was real, as if you'll truly read this. I think about your coming back, and wonder how we'll seem to each other, respond to each other, what that will really feel like when the time comes. I worry about it look forward to it, guess about it... I don't know. Maybe you're having the same thoughts, or maybe you're not and you don't even want to know I have any concerns about it, but I do, and I need to say so, and as much as I want to see you, I feel it'll be a lot of sorting out too. Done over much pizza of course.
I've been saving money like mad recently and, cautiously, can say I might make it now a couple, three months as I try to put together options for making a living. Part of me this week has been homesick for the school, even while I'm there - I think it's because I sense I'm not going back, and even though that would be my own decision, and a healthy one at this point I believe, it's been a very large part of my life and, next to getting the divorce, is one of the largest breaks I could make with the past and everything the last 10 years meant to me. Big change, long last looks. Back on the school topic again, aren't I?
Writing's been going well, art's been going medium, as has reading, and I'm looking at the time coming when I can really fold myself into it and my head and heart just sings.
I suppose this is the last letter, unless I get another address from you - and I send you fond kisses, wish you many happy volcanos and photographs... enjoy the final piece of journey. Love from up north, Linda."
This letter, in light of what subsequently happened reminds me of a song I used to like quite a lot. The end of it goes: "There are women and women and some hold you tight while some leave you counting the stars in the night."
Thur. June 30, 1983 - "Woke about mid-afternoon and caught up on my diary. At 3 I went to a laundrymat but it was closed cuz it's a holiday so I went back to the hotel and say around some more. Left in the late aft. and walked and played pinball. Ate at Mc's and went to the hotel at 8. It feels good to be back in Guatemala City of the brightly colored buildings and busses. I'm really looking forward to the volcanos. Guatemalan government still has her problems. Yesterday the government declared a State of Emergency, shutting down radio and TV because of something or other. Despite the things I miss back home I'm really not looking forward to returning. I live here in Latin America much more than at home. The women are sexier here than in MPLS and I appeal to them more. I could make love to a ton of women here without all the fucking around like in MPLS. When I get back I must make a concerted effort to sell my comics and get a grant
Stayed in the rest of the night, leaving only to have chicken and tortillas next door and buy some Marlboros. The neighborhood my hotel is in is the red light district of Guatemala City. Dark women with middrift bulge, attired in double knit dress pants inhabit the streets at night and call out 'my love' to me in spanish, 'mi amor'; wandering marimba bands seek a likely place to play their love songs. The restaurants and bars resound with sad Latin laments on the juke boxes. At night the brightly colored buildings take on a nighted pastel. To me this neighborhood, this street, 9 avenida, is a distillation of much that is Guatemala.
Today was the 1st rainless day. Read a chunk of 'Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar'.
Fri. July 1, 1983 - "Slept until midday. Dropped my laundry off so I spent the rest of the day running around in shorts. Ran downtown and dashed off a card to ma to let her know I was all right. Some kid approached me near the P.O. with an off of 1.47 Quetzals to the dollar which is great for me since it considerably expands my dwindling money supply. Ate at Mc's then went to the airport where I caugh Gloria just before she got off and we agreed to meet at 6:30. Ran to the Clube Andenismo (volcano climbing club), but it was closed. Went to centro and bought a notepad then went to pick up my laundry. Met Gloria and we went to see 'The Sword and the Sorcerer', my 4th time. Afterward we went to a pizza place and later, when she couldn't catch a bus, we walked to my neighborhood and I saw her home in a cab. When I returned I stood across the street from my hotel listening to oh so beautiful ranchero and romantic ballads a 3 man band was playing (on the street). Their voices were so fine. A beautiful moment in my life. Gloria invited me to come with her and her sister on an overnighter to Lake Atitlan."
Sat. July 2, 1983 - "Woke at 9 and finished off the last bit of Jewels of Opar. Took a nice, warm shower and split to centro to cash some cheques. Got 1.47 for $100. Found an empty shoe box after I ate at Mc's When I opened the Prensa Libre (newpaper) today I was stunned to find that Santiaguito (a volcano I came to see) has just gone into major eruption. I'm in awe at the enormity of my luck that such a thing should happen just now. I have determined to leave for Quetzaltenango (where Santiaguito is) on Tues. morning altho I am dying to leave instantly. I'm so excited I could burst. With luck I should get stunning photos. Gloria came and said her sister's boyfriend never showed so that nixed my trip to Solola. I decided I'd leave for Quetzaltenango in the morning and Gloria walked with me to the ticket office. We ate in a chicken place 1st. After I bought the ticket we sat in a small park near my hotel as night fell. I saw her on a bus home then went to play the pins and eat at Mc's. Paid my bill and left a 6:30 wake-up call. Started 'Tarzan at the Earth's Core' today."
Sun. July 3, 1983 - "Rose at 6:30 and went next door to eat some chicken before heading for the bus station. Bus left around 8:30 getting to Quetzaltenango about 12:30. Got a nice room at the Hotel Radar 99 (don't ask - that's the 3rd world) for $2 a night. Talked to this kid who ran the place for a while then went ot our old 'para llevar' (a take out place we used in '77 and '79)) chicken place to eat. After eating I walked around the plaza and thru the streets then went to the hotel for a nap. Woke and killed flies with my belt. Being here sure brings memories to life. My 3rd visit to this city. Went walking around for 6x7's, took a couple. Had a banana with milk, ate chow-mein. Wrote some more to Linda. Read.
Mon. July 4, 1983 Independence Day - "Woke a little later than I wanted to and didn't get started til midday. Took a cold shower then brought some stuff to the dry cleaners. Took a walk up to the market and bought some canned food and ate in a chicken place where a lady remembered me and Joe from our last visit 4 years before. Talked to a man in a photo store about how to climb Santiaguito. Mailed off my 23 rolls of film and tiny cans and Linda's letter. I've done a ton of walking today. Took a nap and at dusk went out with the 6x7 and got a couple good shots. Took a picture of the restaurant wall with the sun painted on it and talked to a guy for almost an hr. Ate spaghetti and went to the hotel. Read a chunk of Earth's Core til late."
Santiaguito in eruption when Joe
and I climbed in 1979
I should clarify a some things about what's going on when I write about climbing Santiaguito. Santiaguito is actually the enormous active crater that is located at the base of the gigantic 12,400 ft. Santa Maria Volcano. Santa Maria erupted in 1902 and was one of the 3 largest eruptions of the 20th century. A huge chunk of the side of the cone collapsed at that time though not as far as the top. Santiaguito was formed in 1922 and has been active ever since. My plan was to climb to the top of Santa Maria so I could look right down on the crater. In 1979 my buddy Joe and I had followed a track around the base of Santa Maria and come to a vantage point level with Santiaguito which was erupting like crazy. We slept in a goat hut that night high on valium. I remember reading accounts in Guatemala City of evacuations associated with the current eruption and was worried that I wouldn't be allowed to climb. However, this isn't the States and it wasn't even an issue. The evacuations were below the crater towards the lowlands and had to do with floods of mud and lava and I was coming at it from the highlands.
Tues July 5, 1983 - "Woke at 8 and headed for the tourist office but it was closed. Finally found the Club de Andenismo but it too was closed. I headed for the theatre I photographed back in 1977 but didn't like the way it looked in daylight. Went to eat chow-mein then bought some jugos (cans of juice) and another can of meat for my climb. Santiaguito is still erupting nicely tho it's not so nice for the residents of El Palmar (some distance below the crater). Can't see any signs of activity from the city. After 4 yrs. tomorrow's the day. Started 'Tarzan and the Ant Men'.
Took a nap then went to buy cookies and a jar of honey. Club Andenismo is still closed; went to the covered market then took some tele-converter on the zoom shots with the 85B filter against the sun. Went to the hotel when the sun was very low to await dusk. Then I went out and got a couple good shots. Ate pizza and went to the hotel to pack up for the volcano. Damn pack is heavier than I wanted. Finished Earth's Core."
Wed July 6, 1983 - "I am writing this atop the summit of Santa Maria Volcano. Woke at 6 and soon made my way to the market where I bought a couple of bottles of pop and some bread. Took a bus to the terminal and when I got there the driver offered me a joint. Bought me some bananas and more bread. Caught an 8 AM ALA but to Llanos de Pinal for 10 cents. From there I started the gradual ascent. Stopped to have honey and bread then proceeded to get onto the wrong trail. I heard somebody cracking a whip not far off and I decided to backtrack and ask directions. This shepard showed me a trail not far back he said went almost to the top. Sounded good to me and I took it. Before long it petered out into a series of livestock trails. When I was close to the top I struck straight up. Thinking I would pass the night among the trees where it would be warmer, I left my pack there and climbed the short distance to the top. I found a neat sheltered place with a little cave if it rains (I had not tent); and since there was plenty of wood for a fire I decided to spend the night there. I retrieved my pack and built a huge fire, tho the night in this sheltered place was warmer than I expected. 20 ft. away on the other side of the rock it is cold and very windy. I can hear the crater rumbling all the time. As night fell I contentedly sat by the blaze I'd made and when the clouds parted I'd see the lights of many towns spread out like a starry tablecloth. I caught a glimpse of Santiaguito in the late afternoon when the clouds momentarily broke. It seemed very close and I should have a great view tomorrow."
When I said the trails petered out I wasn't kidding. There were times I was crawling under logs. One good thing about climbing a cone is that you can't get lost; everything eventually meets at the top; of course that's not really true about volcanos because there can be giant ravines that might separate you from the way up. Animals don't climb to the top for recreation but goats range far. Once I was on the volcano itself the entire climb was through thick pine forests.
The reason I always spend the night up on volcanos is because volcanos generate their own weather. What that means is that there is a consistant pattern where the top of the peak is shrouded in clouds by midday on just about every volcano I've ever climbed. The clouds usually but not always clear off after sundown and at night, if you have a full moon and in the morning the views are usually clear and utterly spectacular. On this particular occasion I had no luck with the clouds whatsoever and it nearly led to my death as you will see.
Thur. July 7, 1983 - "Woke very early and, with difficulty, made a fire cuz I was cold. Then I went a ways down the slope, expecting the sun to soon burn the clouds away. Disappointingly the clouds stayed and have been unrelenting all day. If the same conditions hold tomorrow I shall try and climb beneath the clouds towards the crater, which has been giving off huge rumblings all day, adding to my frustrations. Took a nap, climbed down the slope again but no dice. I can't remember the last time I was so filthy. Read just a little 'Tarzan and the Ant Men'. Ate, built up the fire and kept it going all night. Lightning over the Pacific never let up. One thing I shant miss about being up here is smoke in dee eyeballs."
Fri. July 8, 1983 - "Woke at first light and it was finally clear. I made my way down the slope to watch the crater but all it did was give off a silent puff of smoke. The wind was terrific and cold as hell. Soon the clouds came back and I decided to exit the peak on the crater side to see if I could get beneath the clouds. Before 15 min. had passed my pants were soaked to the knees as were my shoes. Following the cow paths went okay for a while but I left them about a third of the way down and with difficulty made my way to and across a lava flow. From there on it was sheer hell. Almost impenetrable vegetation really slowed me down, also quickly sapping my strenght. Intertwining branches tore at me and those lava holes (the collapsed tops of lava tubes) seemed to be everywhere, and always hidden by vegetation. I very nearly fell in one and saved myself by laying spread-eagled over it, desperately clutching at branches. It was deep enough to possibly present some difficulty climbing back out. Only later did I learn that some of these holes may be deep enough to injure or kill, or least preclude the possiblility of getting back out, especially if one is alone as I was. Once, I stumbled on a path but I think I should've followed it up instead of down for it came to nothing. My misery was brought to an end by a cowbell and by 2 guys searching for the cow around who's neck the bell was. For a short time I'd heard a cowbell above me, sounding tantalizingly close since I knew the animal was on a trail. Finally I decided to battle my was towards the sound. Shortly I came onto a lava flow which I was fairly certain was the one I'd come across 4 years ago (with Joe from the other side - it was like a wide frozen waterfall in terraces.); if so then there was a trail that debouched onto it. Thinking a part of the lava flow above me ended there, I headed down the flow, searching for the path. I didn't go very far before I luckily ran into a man and a young boy who were searching for their cow I'd heard a short time ago. They showed me the correct path to Llano de Pinal, which was above where I thought the lava flow ended so I doubt I'd have found it on my own. It turned out to be the same path I'd wrongly got onto when I first started up the volcano. Very tired and spent, I hiked off the volcano and onto the plain, soon catching a bus into Xelaju' (the Mayan name for Quetzaltenango - the chicken/school busses were always marked 'Xela') Gads was I filthy. I had a zillion burrs in my hair, my scarf, my sweater and my jacket. I got off the bus near the market and walked to the Radar 99 and with much pleasure and relief I shed my grimy clothes I'd worn for so long and had a hot shower. I dropped my clothes off at the dry cleaners and went to have a delicious onion pizza. Played pool for 2 hrs. and went to the hotel. It has been a very long day.
So, a lot of work failed to net me the vision I'd hoped for altho the summit of Santa Maria is certainly a great vantage to see the crater; it was just too damn cloudy. Perhaps some day I'll make another stab at it, but I sure as hell won't be during the rainy season and I sure as hell won't climb down the crater side of the volcano. Anyway, I tried and then some. Today is the 191st day of my trip and I have done and seen such a wide variety of things I find it unbelievable. I wonder if I'll ever want to take a trip of such long duration again. I guess it depends on if I accumulate a great backlog of dreams again. I am smoke and my heart is the wind and that's the answer. Read a little 'Tarzan and the Ant Men'."
Wow, crazy reading that after all this time. The reason I'd let myself be suckered into going down the crater side was that from a distance, the way down looked like mown lawn, very short vegetation. What it was though was a tangled matt of vegetation that from a distance looked inviting to walk on but was nearly impenetrable. There was no tall pine forest on this side of the volcano so I could easily see the lay of the land but that ended up fooling me.
The collapsed tops of lava tubes were everywhere, totally hidden by the thick matte of vegetation; that matte covered and hid the tubes but would not support me. When I'd started to fall into that lava tube I write of I acutally put a foot onto nothing but vegetation and started to fall in. I threw myself onto the other side as far as I could and for a moment I was spread-eagled over the opening with my pack dangling in thin air. When I glanced into the hole I saw nothing but black. Thankfully grabbing handfulls of that vegetation gave me just enough of a hold to pull myself out of trouble.
I always laugh when I think how I looked coming off that volcano. I mentioned how filthy I was during the first night. After a 2nd night and climbing down the volcano through that mess of vegetation I was a sight. My pants were soaked to the knees which was as high as the vegetation went for the most part. Pollen clinging to the wet turned my blue jeans totally gray from above the knees down. When I got on the bus to return to Quetzaltenango I went to sit at the back and 2 Mayan girls moved away from me, probably cuz they were a little put off by the sight of a filthy bramble covered gringo and I'm sure I didn't smell too good either.
You can't know how difficult it is to get through that type of vegetation until you've been in it. Just lifting one leg free and high enough to take the next step took a great effort; it was like a brambly quicksand that clung to my legs. I had run out of drink and was dry and tired. Just moving 20 feet would take me 15 min. if you can believe that. Hearing that cowbell is what saved me cuz before that I was just struggling in a sea of vegetation towards no better place that I could see. The path that cow was on was not wide and also hidden by vegetation so it's unlikely I would have stumbled onto it. The paths on that side of the volcano are mostly only on one level and do not go up and down like the ones I climbed up to reach the top so I was just lucky I hadn't gone down too far and that I was in that general area. I was to climb to the top of that volcano one more time it turns out and that time was thankfully, far less eventful.
Sat. July 9, 1983 - "Woke around 10 and at 11 took my deburred sweater and scarf into the cleaners. Played pool from noon til 3. Went and had an onion pizza then sat in the hotel for a couple hrs., afterwards which I picked up my laundry. Tried to find a certain plaza for a dusk shot but walked all over hell as the light faded. God was I angry. This is the only town I've ever been in where my sense of direction consistently fails me. Got my Guatemala City bus ticket, $3.50, this afternoon for 10:30 AM.
The guys at the cleaners told me that at one time 5,000 students climbed Santa Maria which explains all the campsites in out of the way places. I can't see how the summit could hold that many people. These guys also told me that April is the best time for going up Santa Maria in that it's clear and warm.
Went out to have chicken at ye olde para llevar then packed. Read a little Ant Men."
I often make an entry that says I hung out in the room and it sounds like I wasn't doing much. Actually there was a lot that could only really be done by sitting in my room and concentrating on certain things. I would clean my camera equipment, research how, when, and where to go in my South American Handbook, reading maps, figuring out a budget, reading for pleasure, and writing in my journal.
Sat. July 10, 1983 - "Woke just before 9, at 10:15 left Xelaju'. Arrived in Guatemala City at 2. Got a room at the Espana and bought a couple of papers and a Newsweek on the way to Mc's. Tried to go to some wrestling matches but I got the wrong directions and bussed to the wrong gymnasium. I walked to the hotel from there and took a nap. Went out at dusk to look for photos but didn't shoot a thing. Ate at Mc's and went to see 'Enter The Ninja' at 9:15 at the Lux for Q1.50. Soldiers stopped the bus today on the way to Guatemala and frisked us all down. I read in the sports page today that Gremio, (a Brazilian team) in the Copa Libertadores, blew a 3-1 lead while having 11 men to Estudiantes de la Plata's 7 men. That must've been an incredible game to see. Finished 3-3"
I am not a great student of the long rebel struggle in Guatemala that was at it's worst from 1980 to 1982, with many massacres of Mayan villagers and some successes by the rebels. When I arrived in Guatemala in 1983 the State of Emergency that was declared speaks to the seriousness of the situation. There were sandbagged machine gun emplacements along key parts of the main highway that connects Guatemala City and Quetzaltnenango. Where I could see the effects of the civil war was on the faces of the Mayans indians who are everywhere. Guatemalans are great travelers within their own country and there are a great many people moving about the highlands constantly. Mayans are normally laughing and joking but the faces that year were grim compared to my last visit in 1979. Faces were much happier when I returned at the end of 1984, a year and a half later. I do not believe in sticking my nose into the politics of other countries whether for good or ill. My feeling was and is that Guatemala is for Guatemalans.
When good friend Joe and I had been in Guatemala in 1977 and 1979 there was a flood of backpackers on the circuit. I can't remember for sure but the number of foreign visitors to Guatemala was into the hundreds of thousands. During this 1983 visit I did not see one backpacker, not one. The U.S. state department had put out a travel warning regarding Guatemala because of the civil war as did European governments at the time. As I recalled a few tourists had been killed in 1980 when things really heated up. This civil war lasted a very long time; you could measure it in decades but some few years were much, much worse than others. The Mayan Indians suffered terribly.
Mon. July 11, 1983 - "Woke about midday, showered and dropped off some clothes at the cleaner's. Played pool from 1 til 2:30. Traded 2 Tarzan books for 'Tarzan Triumphant, then bought 'The Eyes of the Overworld' and 'Maske: Thaey' by Jack Vance for $1.60 each. Bought the Miami Herald from last Fri. that had the A.L.'s 13-3 whumping of the N.L. in the All-Star Game. Sat in Mc's for a long time. On the way back to the hotel I bought today's Herald, Q1.10. The Chicago Blitz (the now defunct USFL football league) blew a 38-17 lead with 12:02 left and lost 44-38 in overtime to the Philadelphia Stars in the semis. I'd meant to run to Zone 4 for 6x7's but I napped too long. Chowed down at Mc's just before it closed. Read 'The Overworld', 'Cil' and 'The Mountains of Magnatz' (from the Vance book)."
Now that we have the internet it is probably hard to imagine how hard it was to get international news in while traveling. I didn't have a TV in any of my rooms and so didn't watch any news shows. I was always hard up for sports news. Time, Newsweek and the Latin American edition of The Miami Herald were my main sources of news about the outside world. I occasionally splurged on these somewhat expensive items because on many parts of my trip I was totally cut off information wise. Contacting home and friends was even more onerous. It's so wonderful the way the internet has changed all this and really revolutionized the ability of people in 3rd world countries to get information. This was the era of the long distance telephone, cassette Walkman's and books.
Guatemala City is divided into Zones for some reason. You can have an identical address but with Zone 5 or Zone 4 after it.
Tues. July 12, 1983 - "Woke late again. Read a bunch of Vance before ever I left the hotel. Went to Mc's around 3 in a drizzle. Bought a Time to read at Mc's, played the pins. Went to the hotel to get my older F-1 to show to a shop (to maybe sell) but it was closed. Bought a Miami Herald. Finished the Overworld collection. Found a proverb in that issue of Time by William Wordsworth that applies to my color photography: 'Wisdom is ofttimes nearer when we stoop, than when we soar.' (I was referring to my 6x7 work of photographing nothing and making it shine)"
Sounds like I was being very lazy but I knew I was going up Pacaya volcano in a few days and had never climbed it so I had no idea what was in store in terms of the physicality involved. I wanted to indulge in my small pleasures. My South American Handbook said there were bandits up around Pacaya who had robbed and even killed tourists on the volcano; I really didn't give a shit. If you don't believe me pick up a Lonely Planet guide book about Guatemala and read about Pacaya. When I climbed Pacaya in 1998 and 1999 it had become a tourist attraction for backpackers who were brought from Antigua. The guides who brought the groups of tourists brought along armed guards with big semi-automatic pistols.
Wed. July 13, 1983 - "Woke early, showered, read some Vance. A little after 10:30 I walked over to the Club Andenismo and got a lot of help from 2 guys there, even an offer to climb Pacaya with me to lessen my chances of being robbed. They told me La Soledad, like the South American Handbook says, is the best route to Acatenango (another active volcano I was going to climb). They drew me maps and told me I was welcome to join them on their July 31 run up Acatenango and Fuego but unless I sell my older Canon F-1 I'll be unable to do so. A 3rd guy gave me a ride to center where I pigged out at Mc's and spent 2Q on the pins. Napped for a little while and spent some time downtown but the place I wanted to try and sell my camera to was closed again. Read at the hotel a bit then went to the Tower of the Reformer and slowly worked my way back to the hotel looking for 6x7's shooting only 2. Read the rest of 'Maske: Thaery."
Thur. July 14, 1983 - "Rose early and made my way to the terminal, which was quite a sight as it is a place from which scores of busses depart for a large variety of destinations in Guatemala, as well as being the site of a large food market. Found a San Vincente de Pacaya (a town near to the volcano) bus with some difficulty. Took a bus to centro and tried to trade the 2 Vance paperbacks I'd just bought but nothing doin'. Ate at Mc's then went to pick up my laundry; showered, dropped off some more dirty clothes and went out to the airport to see Gloria. We went downtown together and sat in the park before going to see 'Forbidden World' at 5:30 for Q1.50. It was a fairly shitty movie altho not totally incompetent; with stupid sex scenes and not much to say. Afterwards we sat in the park until night fell and agreed on a thyrst for tomorrow night. Saw her on a bus then went to Mc's and a new pinball place I found outside the movie place where you can get double the games. Bought 'The Chronicles of Corum' by Michael Moorcock today for Q2.05: a sequel to the Swords Trilogy. Read some Ant Men."
Fri. July 15, 1983 - "Missed my 6 AM call and woke at 8. Fucked around too much and didn't get to the Terminal until late morning. Grabbed a few shots and bussed to center. Ate at Mc's and grabbed a nap, then picked up my laundry. Walked all over hell looking to replace a button on my pants that popped. Showered and shaved and Gloria and I got a room at the Belmont (the 1st hotel I'd ever stayed at in Guatemala City back in 1977 and across the street from the Espana - the Espana wouldn't go for the guest) for Q11 and make love on and off for 3 hr. At 9 she was on the bus and I was looking to Mc's. Played the pinball machine I played a lot in Cuzco where the 3 balls come down at once. Tomorrow I'm off to Pacaya and my last excursion in Guatemala cuz my cash is very low. I have a feeling I'll have much better luck with the clouds and photos this time."
Lord knows how many times I ate at McDonald's on this trip. It's not that I'm into fast food that much, I just like to get in and get out fast; I rarely eat fast food in the States. Plus it's a good way not to pick up bugs. I often think how funny it is that I have been to so many McDonald's around the world.
Gloria was a really cute dark-eyed beauty with long hair; a typical Guatemalan on the Spanish side. Gloria and I hit it off really well, having an immediate rapport and I developed a true affection for her. She was a very nice person. Nice tits too. I would see her again on another trip.
Sat. July 16, 1983 - "Woke about 6:30 and took a bus to the Terminal. Bought bananas, cookies, bread and jugos. At 8:30 I got a bus to San Vincente Pacaya. From there I hiked up to San Francisco. Once there I sought out Don Cecilio Roque, Don Chilo (I'd been turned on to him as a guide by the guys at the climbing club.) I had to wait a while as a girl brought him down from the fields. He turned out to be a nice old guy who led me all the way up to the volcano itself. Shortly after climbing up from his house aways, the trail goes between barbed wire fences for a short distance with a stand of cypress trees on the right. We stuck to the trail that ran alongside the barbed-wire fence on the left all the way to another wire fence and trail that crossed at right angles, making a T. Here we turned right, following this for 15 min. til, just past some large boulders we went thru a gate in the fence on the left. From there it was a matter of following the track up. La Meseta was weirdly beautiful in the fog, which was keeping me from seeing the volcano. Near the foot of the volcano we encountered 3 middle-age Guatemalans who warned me not to pass the night because of thieves, and Don Chilo told me it was cold at night and rainy. He showed me the final path up to the crater and said he'd wait at the bottom. When I was part way up I turned and saw him thru a rent in the fog and shouted he could go home. The climb thru ashy dirt was difficult but not far. The crater was enveloped in fog and smoke from countless vents. I couldn't see the live crater but could hear something below me similar to waves crashing on a shore but shortened. Then it started to rain and gust real good so I decided to seek shelter back on La Meseta. Got soaked to the knees but my poncho did it's job. I headed for Cerro Chino (an ancient grassy bowl of a crater below La Meseta) to see if it would afford a view of the crater but when I was resting under a tree near the cerro it became apparent that the crater was up top and not down the slope (it was all fog and I couldn't see anything that was at a distance); the noise I'd heard was the crater. To my surprise and when I'd least expected it, the air cleared and I decided to climb back up. Sure enough, there was the crater, spitting lava up in the air. I gradually decided to spend the night in the old crater and went to lay out my sleeping bag. When I went back to the edge where I could see the crater it had been magically transformed; the fading light showed up the lava. Huge geysers of incandescent lava shot scores of feet in the air. I took photos and watched far into the night and those hours were among the most incredible of my life. I had long wanted to see such a sight and it was like a dream come to life. To make it even better, it was neither windy nor cold and the ground was warm to sit on. What a great fuckin' time I had! From time to time an especially huge geyser of lava would suddenly, frighteningly, roar into the sky while my jaw dropped. I was so enraptured I didn't stop watching until I was very tired. I passed the night in my sleeping bag very comfortably."
I can't believe I did that without a tent. I had a big rain poncho and so I guess I figured I'd just drape it over me if it rained. I don't remember for sure but I think I may have felt okay about it because the pattern was for the nights to be clear. I remember how insistent one of those 3 Guatemalan gentlemen was about trying to get me to come back with him; he said that for me to stay up there was just plain dangerous because of bandits. The area around the volcano is kind of difficult to describe. La Meseta, the little mesa, is a sloping flat moonscape with tufts of grass that gradually leads up to a semi-circular area that is a sheer drop of to the base of the giant ash cone. La Meseta drops off to the right and gradually leads to ancient Cerro Chino. There is a place around to the left side where the ground connects up with the ash cone at the level of the mesa. After you make it to the top of the ash cone you are on the edge of an old crater with a flat bottom that has been partially sliced away so that it is a half circle. At the edge of that half circle is a drop off to the jumble of newer lava and the new crater. Over the years, because of eruptions, the layout has changed, especially the active crater. That flat semi-circular crater whose bottom I slept on is buried in lava now.
In the foreground of my photo is the active crater and
in the distance
Agua Volcano and behind that,
the twins, Acatenango/Fuego
There are spectacular views of Agua Volcano and the twin volcanos of Fuego and Acatenango. On the other side of the active crater from where I was, the ash cone and the land gradually slopes all the way to the hot lowlands thousands of feet below. Because of the nature of volcanos, they are usually about 50 miles from the sea in many instances and so the view of the lowlands and the faraway sea is just great. That night, the heat lightning out off the coast over the Pacific Ocean never stopped and so altogether, with the non-stop lava eruptions, non-stop heat lightning and the lights of towns and villages far below it was quite a spectacular sight. If you go up on the old crater rim and look back the way you came you can see the golden lights of Guatemala City some 25 miles away and that in itself is quite a sight. You can see Pacaya Volcano from the airport in Guatemala City and when it is throwing out lava that too can be seen. I remember waking up the next morning flat on my back inside my sleeping bag and I was totally enveloped in a bright, white fog; it was like a version of heaven you see in the movies and really weird and beautiful
Sun July 17, 1983 - "I awoke several times to light before rising. The peak was shrouded in fog and since I figured even a clear day would yield nothing better than the previous evening I decided to head back. I started the 2nd of my 4 rolls of Ektachrome 200 on La Meseta, taking some shots of the volcano thru the trees. I reached San Francisco before 11 and left Don Chilo his 3Q and 3 cans of meat. Waited for a bus in a hamlet below San Francisco which came at noon. It pulled up in back of a bus in Amaitlan which immediately left for Guatemala City. I got a room at the Espana and borrowed Q15 from them. Pigged out at Mc's and wrote in my journal for awhile before heading out to the rich section of the city to see 'A Rumor Of War' at Las Americas 1, which pissingly turned out to be a made-for-TV movie I'd already seen. It has been 200 days since I landed in Rio de Janeiro. I shall be home before 2 weeks are out. Read."
A shot I took of the Pacaya Volcano complex from the
summit of Agua Volcano in 1999. When I am up Pacaya
I am on the tip top of the peak on the right.
Mon. July 18, 1983 - "Woke early and read. Went to the Club Andenismo to chat for awhile then to the Mexican Consulate for a tourist card. Left off laundry and got my 6Q ticket for the border earlier. Ate at Mc's. Sat at the hotel for a little while then went back to the consulate at 2 for my tourist card. From there I bussed to the airport to see Gloria and we hung around together til after 8. We walked near the airport then came to my neighborhood to get my laundry and 6x7. I didn't get the shot I wanted but we sat at a table talking and finally I said good-bye to her in the rain and the night. She's a sweet person. Came to the hotel and talked sports with these guys in the tienda across the street. My last night in this city and I'm a little sad. Good-bye 9th avenue and your Mariachi's and harlots and pastels and life. Another time perhaps. You have lost some of your magic from a time when I was 22 but not all of it. Farewell sad laments on the jukebox at night. Adios, Gloria and thank you for the silver bookmark and for your friendship. I will remember you and think well of you. So long, Pacaya, thanks for the fireworks. Good-bye Guatemala, take care of your people. Que la vaya bien, all.
Another of my shots of Pacaya from
atop Agua Volcano in 1999. You can
see how near one is to the crater
because I was right upon that peak.
Tues. July 19, 1983 -"I am writing this in Merida. Spent the day mostly spinning my wheels. The morons at the Espana started it off by failing once again to wake me on time. Instead of getting up at 4 AM I woke on my own at 6, missing my 5:30 bus to the border. Luckily, the bus company willingly gave me a seat on the next bus at 10:30. Sometime after the bus left the mountains and I saw Agua Volcano on my right, it dawned on me that I was on the wrong bus. How stupid can you get! I was going to the southern frontier instead of the northern. I decided to get off the bus in Mazetenango. I'd take another to Quetzaltengo where I would spend the night and try it again in the morning. So I arrived in Quetzaltenango in the rain and ate in the chicken place near the pavilion, waiting for the rain to stop. I started talking to the owner and he graciously offered to give me a ride to the Radar 99. Banks were closed but Rutas Limas accepted a $10 cheque for the 4Q ticket. Took a nap then went out for a pizza at about 9. Read some 'Tarzan and the Ant Men'.
Wed. July 20, 1983 - "Hotel woke me at 4 AM and at 5:30 I was off. We rode thru a thick fog and later in the morning thru numerous checkpoints. At first they made all the men get off the bus but later on we just had to hold up I.D.'s. Crossed the border into Mexico without incident, this time riding the 3.7 km. in the back of a pick-up instead of walking, 30 pesos(like 1977). The immigration man asked to see $200 but luckily for me he didn't count it cuz I didn't have it. Changed a fiver for 700 pesos with a guy to have some spending money. Soon caught a bus to San Cristobal de las Casas for 270 pesos. Took the long walk a couple of blocks past centro and stayed at the Posada Tepeyac for 350 pesos, the same nice little place Joe and I had 6 years ago. The leather bags were still on that street (they have the most fantastic bags there) but for $10-$12 a shot. Mexico is not the bargain I had expected tho it is still very cheap. At night I broke out the 6x7, ate and left a 6:30 wake up call although I'd wanted 5. Showered and finished off 'Tarzan and the Ant Men'. I decided that because of lack of money, $43, I would start the stretch drive for Merida tomorrow. I had an MCO (Misc. Charges Order - blank plane ticket basically) for $236 and $120 in cheques but was not counting on this cuz I didn't know if Continental would accept the MCO or whether their fare of $204 and special fare of $102 to MPLS were reality. If I had to use another airline I figured I'd have to pay $300 or more so the $356 was not being relied on for any spending money."
Thur. July 21, 1983 - "Woke on my own about 5:45 and hastily maneuvered my unwieldy baggage to the station and got a 7 AM bus to Tuxtla (Gutierrez), standing the whole 2 hrs., 137 pesos. When I got there I didn't have the 1,440 pesos for the Merida bus, but with the help of this young guy the ticket lady agreed to hold a ticket for me while I cashed a check. The kid showed me where the banks were but none would cash a cheque so I cashed my last 8 bucks, got 143 pesos to the dollar and had just enough for my ticket. Running around with all my luggage in the heat was no joke and I was glad to be able to sit and just wait the 3 hrs. for the bus to leave. While I waited I started 'The Chronicles of Corum', a sequel to the Swords Trilogy, and finished Book 1 before sunset. Slept on and off all night and when I woke for the final time we were in Merida, before 6 AM."
Fri. July 22, 1983 - "Looked all over hell for a hotel and by the time I stopped at Casa Bowen a 2nd time I was angry, sweaty, and my suitcase hand was sore as hell. For 450 pesos this is a fantastic hotel. Took a shower in my private bath and went to wait for the banks to open at 9. Changed my last $30 in cheques, ate and bussed, 9 pesos, to the airport where I got the great news that Continental would honor my MCO and I could fly to MPLS for only $185 which left me with a $51 MCO and $120 in cheques that were previously off limits as far as spending money. Returned, drank 2 Chocolate Soldiers and napped. When I woke it was raining like shit. After awhile I went out to walk around and ran into the Dutch guy I met in Peru. We ate together and talked a long while. At 9 I went taking 6x7's for a couple of hrs. Ate spaghetti and went to the hotel at 11:30..
So on Tues. there will be an end to it all. I feel at once good and sad about returning. I don't think I'll enjoy being in MPLS (truer words were never written) for long. But I gave my itch a good long scratch. It'll probably return come winter. I'll wish I were in Rio. I can't complain tho. Read some more of 'The Oak and the Ram'."
Sat. July 23, 1983 - "Woke early on, showered and read a little Corum. Left a little after 10 to cash a 20 at the bank. Walked over to the market and ate chicken and frijoles. Looked around for a hammock place and finally had a horse drawn carriage bring me for 400 pesos. They didn't have much so I walked back to the market looking around at shit and in looking to have a chocomilk, stumbled upon a cafeteria in the market named La Giralda that had pudim just like Brazil, only they called it flan. Fuck was I smug; at 3. Slowly made my way to the hotel, which hadn't started on my laundry so I walked it over to a lavanderia myself. Very warm.
Took a nap then went to the lavandaria but it was late and it was closed. Took a 6x7 on top of the market then went to La Giralda's and had 6 flan. Sat in the park across from the cine that was showing 'Superman III', after eating chicken, debating whether to see it. When I finally decided the jerk off pricks wouldn't let me in cuz I was wearing shorts. Went back to the hotel about 10. Finished 'The Oak and the Ram' and most of 'The Sword and the Stallion'."
In Merida at that time it was consider impolite to wear shorts even though it was hotter than hell. The only time you saw men in shorts in Merida was when they were going to play soccer. I remember the first time I was in Merida, when Joe and I came in 1977. We were a sight in walking around in our rain ponchos and I went barefoot a lot on that trip; had very long hair in 1977 too. The people of the Yucatan were more or less used to weird hippie gringo backpackers in 1977 and so smiled and took us with a grain of salt. I imagine things are much more casual now when it come to dress codes.
Sun. July 24, 1983 - "Finally rose in the afternoon and finished off the last 20 pages of 'The Chronicles of Corum'. Started in on 'Space Opera', by Vance. Went to eat chicken in the market and flan near centro. Sat in the main plaza then napped at the hotel, read some more of 'Space Opera'. At night I went to the rasslin' matches; only 180 pesos for a ringside seat. They were pretty good. My favorite was a guy dressed in a suit of old clothes and a ghoul mask. The last 2 bouts were tag-team matches, plenty of energy. Shogun and the Irishman were good. Ate a pork chop and flan and finished off 'Space Opera', not that great."
Mon. July 25, 1983 - "Day 208, the last full day of my trip. My last night in a hotel. It is hard to believe I'll be sleeping at Ma's tomorrow night.
Before midday I left to pick up my laundry and cashed a 20 in the bank at 147 pesos to the dollar. Ate chicken near the market then went to have 4 flan. Bought Bill (my mother's boyfriend) a belt for 500 pesos and myself a small onyx box for 350 pesos. Napped at the hotel. Today I took up reading 'The Broken Lands' by Fred Saberhagen. At dusk I went out with the 6x7 and took a few shots. The last night of my long journey had a dusk of translucent gold and a full moon. I ate spaghetti next door and went to sit in the parks on a warm, still, beautiful night. On the way back to the hotel I watched some folkloric dancing, ate a hot dog in the street.
How I shall miss the sexy, alluring women of the south, with their dark eyes, see-through blouses and languid looks. The women of MPLS are like men in comparison. God, I shall miss them; all softness and lace, an enigmatic smile, a head of dark hair, full lips, large eyes, erect figures. And the looks they give me, everywhere I go.
And all the cities and towns: Rio de Janeiro, Curitiba, Foz d'Iguassu, Salvador, Belem, Santarem, Manaus, Cuiba', Corumba, Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Cochabamba, La Paz, Copacabana, Puno, Cuzco, Aguas Calientes, Lima, Guatemala City, Quetzaltenango, San Vincente Pacaya, San Cristobal de las Casas, Merida. Not a bad roll call.
Finished off 'The Broken Lands' and packed up my stuff for the final time. It was then that I discovered that the cleaning lady or her son had stolen the 2 duplicate copies of my mini-horror comics I'd bought in Quetzaltenango. Stayed up late."
Tues. July 26, 1983 - "Woke around 8:30 and showered. Went to the market for chicken, frijoles and tortillas. Bought myself a belt for 500 pesos and had 4 flan. Got back to the hotel later than I wanted so I didn't head for the bus stop til 12:45. All the busses were diverted cuz of construction in the street. The fucken assholes nearly did me in but the bus finally came at 1:20 and I got to the airport with only 10 min. to spare.
I was amused as I was being whisked on a subway thru Houston airport to the similarity of 'Blade Runner'. Disembodied voices in spanish and english came and went thru the air.
As I arrowed thru the air I was struck by the strangeness of it all, which intensified to the quality of a dream as I bussed thru the streets towards home.
It was good to see ma, and to be in the house again. Ma gave me the news that Linda was in New Mexico and she brougth down a letter Linda had left off that was very painful to read. She expressed vague doubts about us that explained nothing and disturbed me quite a bit. Some people just don't appreciate a good friend. What a bullshit letter to come home to.
Felt hungry so I rode thru the close summer night down to Shinder's (a once famous now defunct bookstore downtown) cuz I had an itch for Vance then went up to Whopper on 26th and Hennipen, everything seeming so damn familiar; I was wishing I wasn't here, not being able to forget Linda's letter. Stayed up late."
Here is the letter Linda left for me:
"Thursday, July 14 Jim - Am sitting here in the Mudpie, something new (she always went there) taking an air-conditioned break from my moving day - hot, sweaty driving, shirt stuck to back - makes me feel like a trucker, and was thinking of you, and how long it's been since I set pen to paper for you, and decided this is it, this is the time to write the note you'll get on your return. I'll be gone - I think your Mom told you that, but here's the story... gave notice for July and the place I'm going to, 2910 James Ave So, 825-8979 - I think, either that or (a number she crossed out - neither worked) isn't until Aug 1. I had planned to crash downtown at the studio - pretty hot up there - and got an offer from a friend who was going to New Mexico to travel w/ her, and we'll be on the road till Aug 10th or so. Move my stuff out of storage then - I think it'll be good - by the time we return settling in will sound nice, instead of adjusting from one place the other, and I need a journey of some sort right now. Know that you think one ought to 'not just worry about it' but am feeling a little squeezed and confused and scared by a couple things, and I want to get away from the details of my life so I can think about the big issues of my life, and just have art and writing for a few weeks, generally rest and clear out a little. One of the things I am anxious about is you. It's been a real long time, and I don't know exactly how either of us is feeling, how it will be to contact each other again after these months where we both have been through voyages and changes and challenges, and I know that neither of us will be quite the same people, and we'll have to spend some time talking and see what we want for each other and where we are... I'm afraid of that. I don't know what more to say about it really, and I try to predict and that does me no good, I can't guess how I'm going to feel, or how you will, and - so - I'm trying to communicate stuff I'm not clear on, and it's hard... I want to go gently, I'm excited about seeing you, I'm nervous about seeing you, I feel ambivalent and I feel guilty about laying that on you, and still, that's the truth and I don't want to be chicken shit and avoid things either. Hope this isn't entirely too weird to read... I'm doing my best considering it's a letter and I'd rather talk to you, and I want there to be something here for you on your return, and since it isn't going to be me, I knew I had to leave words some how and this is them, and they're not enough. Shit. Jim, you're a very special person in my life and I think you know that, and our friendship matters to me, it's not just people in the wind, and I have feelings that range from here . ___ to ___ . here and back again and maybe I should crumple this up and pitch it and maybe I shouldn't - imagine you reading it in the middle of readjustment and culture shock and going, 'What?'. - but maybe you've been wondering the same stuff... I don't know. I'll get back, I'll call you, we'll spend some time together, eat a pizza, burp, talk, gentle with each other, okay? A few bits of info - I called Andy about the money Matt owes you, and that was a while ago and I don't know if Andy has it or not. Your stuff is with your Mom, as you probably know by now, except for negs in those books, which I'll try to get over there before I go - if not - I'll store them very carefully.
Barry-Richards has sold some of your work - don't know how much money it comes to, but you can get some cash from them for sure. They have all the big prints, and the box of smaller one that you said were the cream of the crop. I'll see you soon - Love, Linda."
Well, what a party pooper, and that's about the nicest thing I can say. I haven't looked at this material I'm writing about and transcribing in many years but even after 25 years I get angry just thinking about it. That's because what she left out of the letter and information she would never volunteer to me amouted to one, giant lie and all the nice platitudes a big ball of pure bull-shit. I am not a total idiot and I'm aware that there are 2 sides to a story but neither am I a fucking chump who doesn't know when he's having his ass sold down the river in such a way that amounts to a kind of a challenge. By that I mean that people can try and end things amicably and go their separate ways, but if one of them has some idea that they're going to make my gallery, my neighborhood, my home stomping grounds a shit place for me to be as if I can't do anything about it then it's gonna be a fucking war. I wasn't the type of man to let some woman from NE Minneapolis and some cunt of a guy from Chicago come to my home turf and say "suck on this". This will all make more sense soon. I have no desire to elevate myself nor make out Linda to be a worse person than she really is but I can truthfully say this: I have spent my life hanging out with dope addicts, thieves, prostitutes and the like and in my entire life I have never been treated as shabbily as Linda treated me upon my return to Minneapolis so I have that to compare the experience to. Neither have I ever been as hurt and angry as I was over what was to come. Yup, two sides to the story; you often hear that from people who have trouble distinguishing between right and wrong.
Sadly, the homecoming from South America on my very next trip in 1985 would be another piece of shit, seeing me in jail for the first time in my life shortly after my return cuz my criminal asshole of a brother Randy had passed himself off as me and bounty hunters were staking out the house. Nice.
Wed. July 27, 1983 - "Finally got up off the couch around noon. Took a bath, looked at the rain. Bussed downtown, left off the last film and picked up some others. Barry-Richards had some good news for me; they'd sold about a dozen prints for me while I was away and the money will shore 'nuff come in handy. Bussed to Hugo's (Uncle Hugo's Science Fiction Bookstore) and bought the Alastor Trilogy and 'The Book of Dreams' by Vance.
Went back to the house and called Kevin who was all pissed off about the pulps I sold in Rio. He refused to discuss the matter and said I'd have to wait for a letter he send explaining the matter. I decided to run out there on Randy's (my brother) bike cuz I don't wait for info when my money's concerned. When he answered the door I told him I wasn't waiting for no letter. He was belicose at first but we finally straitened it out. Ate at Mc's on the way home, didn't get back til midnight. Watched TV, went up to Randy's room at 3 after having fallen asleep; read the 1st 6 chapters of 'Trullion: Alastor 2262'. Guess Randy's coming back with the Greyhound now instead of waiting til Ma and Bill go out to Las Vegas."
Thur. July 28, 1983 - "Woke around midday and sat upstairs for awhile reading Trullion. Showered, bussed downtown. Cashed my last $40 in cheques, visited my (safety deposit) box looking for my telephone numbers but they weren't there. Ate a tuna sub and browsed in Shinder's for awhile. Ate at ma's then bussed out to the Southtown theatre to see 'The Return of the Jedi'; great flik but poorly lit and with unremarkable editing and photography. (Can't believe I wrote that - must've been a bad projector) Good script tho and plenty of entertainment. Some moments moved me and for some reason I left the theatre feeling sad and lonely. I''m still feeling painful about Linda. These warm nights have been empty and without joy. When I returned to the house I hooked up my stereo so I could listen on the headphones and laid in Randy's bed, finally getting to listen to my Michael McDonald album, which was a lift. Can't wait til Linda returns so I can know where I stand."
Fri. July 29, 1983 - "Woke late, finally went down to the lake (Lake of the Isles) to jump rope and (read) some Trullion. Went to see Andy and Liz for the 1st time. Went to the house, dozed in a chair, labled slides til late. Put on the headphones and listened to Samba and Michael McDonald."
Sat. July 30, 1983 - "Woke at noon and spent the day watching Pitt-NO (NFL pre-season) and baseball. Napped on the floor in front of the TV then went up and finished off Trullion. Took another nap, afternoon into night. Such lazy days, not a thing to do. In a way it's nice but I wouldn't wish to do this for long. Watched most of 'It's A Wonderful Life' and it's a great flick. Afterwards some drunk shitheels hit ma's (parked) car but I got them (when they tried to get away around the corner). Read the first pages of 'Marune: Alastor 933' before I went to sleep around 4."
Sun July 31, 1983 - "Went downstairs before 1 and kicked off another achingly boring day by watching 'The Great Escape' and karate boxing on TV. The days have passed like mud over a dike. As I wrote that Randy just got home from Las Vegas. I could scream from boredom altho it's nice not to have a 6 AM wake-up call or to drag that luggage around. Found my phone numbers and called Matt and he agreed to pay the $550 tomorrow night. (He owed me for some week) Read a little Marune."
Mon. Aug 1, 1983 - "Got off the couch around 12, showered and Randy and I headed downtown, he on his bike and myself on a bus. Tried to sell Randy's 90mm macro lens but no dice. Went to Barry-Richards and got a check for 8 8x10's and 3 16x20's: $742 minus $33 for the frame on Linda's presents. Watched some Monday Night Baseball, got antsy around 9 and took Randy's bike around the Lake. Matt never showed."
Tues. Aug. 2, 1983 - "Slept a long time, didn't get off the couch til 2:30. Dug my bike out of the basement and fixed the flat. The frame sure seems small for me now. From 6 til 10 I waited for Matt to get his shit together with my money; for nothing. Bored out of my mind as usual; it's like I never left. Fuck. Oh to be in Rio says I. Watched 'Silent Running' while I sorted out my boxes of slides"
Wed. Aug. 3, 1983 - "Woke around midday, showered and watched most all of the Fleischer cartoon movie of Gulliver. Got on my bike and started my search for an apartment. On the way back I stopped at Kenny's and talked to Eric about a lb. Matt still hasn't come across. Contacted Felix, Ray and Dave (3 of my customers to let them know I was back)."
Thur. Aug. 4, 1983 - "Went and saw Kenny to set things up. Took a short bike ride to look at apts. near Lake of the Isles. Went back to Kenny's and $725'd some excellent. Sat at the house and called a lot of people up. (to let them know I was back in biz) Sat around alot. Ray came over and we went for a ride around 10:30. (Sold him a half Oz.) It's been very hot out.
Ray was a guy from the neighborhood who I'd known since I was 14 or so. I real nice mellow guy and a terrible alcoholic. Ray was a dad when he was only 15 and he was part of a large group of neighborhood guys who all hung out together when we were teenagers. We did some crazy shit and that's for sure.
One night when we were 14 Ray, his best friend Pete and this girl who's dad owned the Normandy Inn stayed in a room for free and I tripped on acid all night. I remember making Raymond laugh so hard that he was begging me to stop. At our age,if we'd have been caught up in that room it would have been trouble.
Fri. Aug 5, 1983 - "Split downtown for a 10:30 appointment at Barry-Richards and got good tidings. I'm going to have some State Fair photos in a show during the State Fair. They're making a color poster for the show from one of my shots. They also sold a 16x20 and an 8x10 since I last saw them on Monday. The money can only help. They also got people in Houston and New York interested in multiple purchases. I also got 16x20's up in Dayton's (a big department store) executive offices so dat's alright. Marie and Genelle (my sister and niece) were at Ma's when I got back. Sat around til it was time to go to Kim's (the daughter of my mother's boyfriend) wedding practice. Didn't do much afterwards. After midnight I had a pizza from Dulano's and watched 'High Noon'. This evening I started to go to photograph the rear of the Jiffy Car Wash but when I was at Hennipen and Lake I looked at the 3 rolls I'd bought and saw I'd asked for 110 instead of 120, so, pissed, I walked to the house."
Sat. Aug. 6, 1983 - "Woke late watched a bit of the 1st NFL game in Europe. A 28-10 victory for the Vikes over St. Louis in London at Wembely Stadium. I shaved and showered at the last minute and we went to the church where Kim and Dan were to be married on a very hot day. Photographed the wedding and the reception til after midnight. A clean 2 bills as far as I was concerned. Ma and Bill didn't get to sleep til very late and got only about 3 hr. sleep before they split off for Las Vegas, along with Kim and Dan."
Sun. Aug. 7, 1983 - "Woke late and sat around all day. Watched boxing, wrestling, 'All the President's Men'. Had northern lights tonight."
My 6x7 shot that night at Loring Park
Mon. Aug. 8, 1983 - "Rose at midday, showered, looked at an apartment in the afternoon. Went to Brand's to exchange the 110 film I accidentally bought for 3 120's. In the evening I went to Loring Park to watch 'The Day the Earth Stood Still', shot a roll with the 6x7. Took a bike ride in the beautiful night."
Loring Park is a park within the city on the edge of downtown Minneapolis and across the street from the Walker Art Center. On Monday nights in the summer the Walker sponsered an event that would have a band followed by a bad movie. That shot I took of the movie eventually made it into the permanent collection of the Walker Art Center. Had a lot of fun going to these back in the old days. Back then it was all heads and you could puff a joint no problem. As the years passed people from the burbs started to come in and you couldn't even smoke a cigarette so I stopped going. I hate fucking Minnesota suburbians. I'm surprised they don't all walk around in fucking helmets.
Tues. Aug. 9, 1983 - "Woke around 9 and biked over to 2106 Bryant to check out an apartment. Slept til almost 3 after I came back. Checked out a few more apts. in the late afternoon. Sure has been boring lately; wish Linda would come back, wish I get into the darkroom. Thing's are going a lot better financially than I expected partially because of the 50 odd 120 films I'd not used during the trip. Plus I got ma to give me the $530 in cash I'd left her and also the $174 rental deposit refund. So, in effect she paid for all of the films I mailed back instead of only the slides and also let me keep my $400 in tax refund from rent I got coming until I get back on my feet. Kevin owes me my $400 yet and Matt came thru with $400 of the money owed Andy and I; $220 I took for myself so $80 of the $150 he owes us is mine. Larry (another old friend from the neighborhood) should come up with $50 for his portrait (a pencil drawing I did) when I finally see him. The unexpected help that really did it was the $742 from Barry-Richard who also owes me another $192. So, theoretically I'll be having access to $3,000, $1,862 of which I have received, $200 from shooting the wedding. But it'll cost me $6-700 to get into an apartment, at least $200 to get the rest of my developed films out of Brand's, at least $150 to get into the darkroom with $35 more to get color printing paper. Overall things look good. If I can sell my comic collection or get a grant my life can take a very pleasant turn even if it means only paying off my loan, ($3,400 student loan), and ma, almost $2,300. The $75 from Randy's 90mm wil help. Fucked around doing nothing in the evening, watched 'The Sentinal' til 1:15, it just ended."
Wed. Aug. 10, Woke a little after 9 to keep an appointment to look at an apartment at 10. Spent most of the day making appointments and checking on apts. After my last apt. at 7 I went to the rear of the Jiffy Car Wash. Nice, purple dusk with a slim crescent moon and scudding clouds. Did mostly 45, 60 and 70 sec. exposures. Didn't get to the house til almost 11. Watched the last half of a Twins 4-1 win in Calif. Today was the day Linda mentioned in her letter as being the tentative date of her return from New Mexico. Sure have thought of Linda alot lately; hoping she hasn't had second thoughts about some of the sweet things she said in her earlier letters to me in Brazil.
Found a rather spacious apartment today that I decided to take at $395 a month. Don't know for sure if I'll get it yet. It's over by Lake and Hennipen."
Thur. Aug. 11, 1983 - "Woke around noon and spent the afternoon calling and biking for apartment references. Showered, bussed downtown, visited Barry-Richards, dropped off the 6x7's I shot of the rear of the Jiffy Car Wash, got the roll from Loring Park I had pushed to ASA 400 at Pro Color. Came to the house and left soon after to see 'Return of the Jedi' at the Skyway Theatre downtown on their big screen. Better print that Southtown. Enjoyed it more than the 1st time maybe. It's cornball to be touched by movies like this perhaps but I was. When I came out of the theatre there was a beautiful dusk. Watched a Twins/Oakland game, paged 20 rolls of negs from the trip."
I think the reason I was touched by the final scenes in "Return of the Jedi" was because of the issue about a separation from one's father. The actor in the film who played Luke's father looked somewhat like my own father who'd left when I was about 2 yrs. old so I never really had a dad. My step father when I was a kid was a crazy fucker of a rage alcoholic. One day when I was 11 my step father and I were alone in the house, that same house I was staying at now, after the trip. He asked me to go upstairs to the bathroom to get him his razor blades. He laid on the couch in the living room and spread out some newspapers on the floor next to the couch and then proceeded to slit his wrists. He didn't die. Some dad.
As I was staying in my mother's house during that late summer of 1983, there were still pieces of tape over the cuts my stepfather had made in the drapes and the easy chair with a butcher knife. There was still glass embedded in a wall in the living room from when my stepfather had thrown a beer bottle with terrific force. I remember being maybe 8 years old one Sunday morning and walkng into the kitchen in that house and seeing my stepfather sitting at the kitchen table and drinking Aqua Velva because the liquor stores were all closed on Sunday. It is perhaps no surprise that when I took 2 hits of very strong acid one night when I was 15 that I had a really bad bummer and imagined I heard noises of violence coming from upstairs when in fact the house was asleep. Despite incidents like that I have mostly fond memories of my childhood. When I was in my early 20's on 2 or 3 occasions I awoke from a sad dream remembering only a feeling of ineffable loss and I knew it was about my father. My real father Ervin took me fishing up in Northern Minnesota a few times when I was 11, 12, 14 years old but that was about it. Fishing was my father's passion. I never took it up.
Fri. Aug. 12, 1983 - "Didn't do shit all day, didn't go anywhere. The asshole redneck from 27th and Humboldt said I couldn't have the apt. because he didn't like the way I came off and because the shit faces from 2312 Blaisdell (an apt. from 1978 I had) had it in their lying file that they had to do 8 hrs. work cleaning it which is bullshit. (On that occasion they had scammed me to keep the deposit because that apt. was well cleaned when I left.) Rednecks are such lowlife heartless, pricks. I've been right on about those bastards since I was a kid. I hope to God I never become like those uncaring stupid shitheels. At night I watched Pittsburgh/New York Giants, 13-22 and the Twins."
Sat. Aug. 13, 1983 - "A day as sad as death. Linda called in the early afternoon and I agreed to meet her at her new place on James Ave. First tho I ran downtown to get some film, scout apts. in back of the Walker Art Center and run over to 33rd and Girard to look at a place. Had butterflies in my stomach the whole time. Showered and bussed over to Linda's. We hugged and kissed at the front door. It took her 5-10 mins. to tell me that there would be no further romance between us, my worst fears brought to reality; I was cut off. We went to the lake, talked, cried, but I couldn't reach her heart. I feel such a great sense of loss; and such pain in my heart. No more Linda, I can't believe it. She's cold. I was stunned. I bussed home and then remembered about the negs she had so I called her from the house but the 2 telephone nos. she'd left in her letter to me weren't right. Bussed back to Linda's and got info on the negs and hit the bus stop. After 5 min. I was drawn back to Linda's like a magnet but the lights were off and there was no answer to repeated knocks, so she split or was hiding out. Walked to Mc's but threw away a cheeseburger and a half I was so heartsick. Bussed home so sad, so sad. What a rotten thing to do to a friend."
In reading this after so many years I am struck by my overly dramatic reaction to what happened but what can I say, it was the way I reacted. What would make it worse was the information I was to learn, no thanks to Linda who turned out to be a cold hearted and straight up liar. I had had people do this to me before then and many times since and I don't know why people behave like that and never will. I have told myself over the years that it must be at least half my fault and have lived my life by that tenet. I have told myself that people in Minneapolis are no different from people anywhere else and have lived my life here in Minneapolis as if it were true.
But there is another side to that, a side I try to ignore because I sense it can't be true and that is that people here in Minneapolis are a real bunch of bastards. I can say, unhappily, that every close friend I have ever had has betrayed me; stolen money, drugs, women, whatever they could get their hands on. Those people are not represented here to defend themselves and so I would not hold it against anyone who said to themselves that there is another side to this story, a side I'm not telling. I don't know what to say about that. I have never said no to any friend or lover in anything that was important or involved throwing them aside like a used paper towel. I have never abandoned a friend, I have never stolen from a friend. I have never involved myself with a friend's woman although there have been offers from some truly hot chicks. I am not desperate and I can find my own stuff. I don't have to lay like a snake in the grass and claim what is rightfully another's.
People in Minneapolis have been a bunch of cold hearted bastards to me. Maybe there is something about my personality that invites such treatment, I really don't know. I seek out people who are fun and caring and loyal and not people who are abusive. Things that people have done to me have always come straight out of left field and that is what makes it hurt. The bad stuff has come from people inordinately fond of portraying themselves one way but acting quite another when it came to it. You sit with these people and have long talks about friendship and loyalty. You lay in bed with a woman and have long, intimate talks about never fucking each other over, whispered assurances of loyalty and love. For me, it's been a crock of shit. Over many years I have come to despise the people here as cold, distant, judgemental and uncaring. I have come to find that people here value 2 things above all others: money and their privacy and the older people get the worse these qualities become.
Maybe I've read too many books where people talk about such things as honor, love, integrity and loyalty. I dunno, maybe something is wrong with me but I took what happened with Linda very, very hard. I think I would have been able to let it go but as things turned out, Linda and her new life had an idea that they were going to make me face this bullshit right in my own backyard, in places I went and that were important to me. I have tried very hard for many years to give people in Minneapolis the benefit of the doubt but it has become harder and harder to do because I keep getting my fingers burnt. Believe me when I say that falling into this type of thinking is the last thing in the world I want to do. I have always tried to live by the credo that I am responsible for the quality of my own life; the problem is that I have treated people I have known much better than I have been treated. I have had things done to me that I wouldn't do to a dog. How much pain can one take before it takes it's toll, how often can I say I'm better than this?
The entire time I have been writing this memoir I have wondered what I would write about this painful memory, if I would show grace and forgiveness and I am not proud as I write this but it is what I have been left with. It is not me at my best; it is not elegant or clever but it is to me sadder than death. I say that because death is inevitable and treating people like shit is just not necessary. How the fuck do these people sleep at night is what I want to know? I wish I could write something insightful about this but it's just not there. I don't get it and I never will. Are people naturally sociopaths wherein everyone else in the world is thought of as a cardboard cutout, an extra in a movie and an easily replaceble one at that? Is this what comes from living in a big city where people can embarrass themselves, show their true colors and then just blend into the crowd, move onto another human being as if they were library books to be discarded for another when they are bored.? One thing I know for sure, Linda is no kind of a woman and that is something she did to herself. Taking a lover is one thing, but to stick that lover in my face as was to be done was not something I was going to put up with. At the end of this story between Linda and myself, I would be provided with solace and even in triumph in a matter of months but I am getting ahead of myself. The last thing I'll say for now is that when it comes to my karma that I police my shit cuz what comes around goes around but there were waves of emotional pain and even depression ahead.
Sun. Aug. 14, 1983 - "Ma and Bill got back from Las Vegas in the middle of the night. It was difficult to sleep. Thoughts of Linda dominate my every waking moment and I feel empty inside. Watched some football then ma and I went to 33rd and Fremont to clinch me an apt. there. Watched the end of the football game and at night 'A Bridge Too Far' and later, 'The Last Picture Show', still brilliant after all the times I've seen it. Got my rent credit while I was gone; $527 and I let ma have $127 so my total debt to her from the trip including paying phone, electricity, half of the 2 long distance calls, etc. is $400. Plus I owe her $1,700 from before which she says is $1,800. I'll give her the extra $100, she deserves it."
Mon. Aug. 15, 1983 - "Slept a little better but I have a constant ache that distracts me from everything. Linda said she thought I felt we didn't see each other enough before I left for Brazil. If only she knew how satisfied I was with the amount of time we spent together. I keep saying to myself, how could she do this to me? She's just not experienced enough to understand the worth of a true friend. Didn't do anything today. Tried to sell Randy's Tamron 90mm down on 57th and Nicollet, no dice. Watched a little baseball up in Randy's room; put on the headphones and drew strength from Michael McDonald's beautiful poetry."
Tues. Aug. 16, 1983 - "Pain, loss, betrayal, anger, biterness, rejection, ache, longing, doubt, Linda. Sold Randy's 90mm today at the Photo Mill in Southtown for $100; they're going to mail me a check. It rained hard around 3 and Linda called. We talked for a couple hrs. Just couldn't reach her heart. She is lost to me. In the long run she is the one who is lost. When you lose the right to use good words your life is a hollow shell. The jade doors are spilling over and who knows when the water shall find it's way back?"
Wed. Aug. 17, 1983 - "Went downtown and picked up $100 worth of my South America film and dropped off the shot's of Kim and Dan's wedding. Bought me a new Zippo. Randy and I went over to Loring Park and caught the end of The Suburbs (a popular local band at the time) and got high and watched 'What's Up Tiger Lily?' Paged negatives all night."
Thur. Aug. 18, 1983 - "Sat around all afternoon. Showered in the early evening and went over to Terry and Sue's to eat some ribs. Felt like I was only half there because of my emptiness."
It's not easy transcribing these entries from my journal cuz I sound like an overly dramatic fucking moron. Terry and Sue were a married couple who I'd originally met as customers back around 1979 or so but we'd become friends. Unfortunately, before 5 years were out, Terry would do to Sue what Linda did to me but they had 2 kids and so it was much worse for Sue than what I was going through and he did the same thing to his next wife and devastated her to the point where I was worried for her safety she was so depressed. What I was going through is done to often and for what? Sue and Terry were lovely people.
Fri. Aug. 19, 1983 -"Probably my most miserable, empty birthday ever cuz of that two-timing lie named Linda. Tad called in the morning from Hawaii (Tad was a good friend who'd moved to Hawaii). A little later I saw Jerome for the 1st time (a fellow MCAD student back when and a customer). Napped. Went to visit Larry in the evening, borrowed his SX-70 Polaroid. Dropped a half off at Terry and Sue's and sat there for awhile. Sat at the house and watched the last of the Vikes 19-17 win at Seattle. Past 12:30 Randy and I went to Kenny's party which I just couldn't enjoy. Left at 3:45. Ma made me a cake today. Every passing minute is shit; the city seems dirty."
Sat. Aug. 20, 1983 - "Didn't do much. Copped a 700 (half pound of weed) offa Kenny. Still feeling shriveled up inside. Linda's so cold and insensitive. Her word are lies."
Sun. Aug. 21, 1983 - "Another day on the couch. My pain was lifted to some extent when Deb called. We talked for a long time and we're going to have dinner next weekend. Got the invitations to the State Fair show yesterday. 9 other photographers are in the show. Here's hoping I shine. Didn't feel so bad after I talked to Deb. I'm more bummed at how Linda dumped me than I can say. But her sad way of doing things will cause her great unhappiness. I feel sorry for her."
The Deb I mentioned was the Deb who'd been my girlfriend from the time I was 18 to 25. All these years later I have no recollection of how she came to call. I think she was married then. Maybe mutual friends asked her to call or told her I was back in town. For many years I felt that Debbie was the only woman I'd ever really loved. I hated breaking up with her; I was sad and depressed over separating from her but I genuinely felt that I was holding her back from being happy, that I could never make her happy and I loved her too much for that. There was no other woman involved at all. I didn't go out with another woman for long after.
Mon. Aug. 22, 1983 - "Went downtown around 3 and talked to Thom for awhile (Thom Barry of the Barry-Richards Gallery). Bought an NFL record book. Ray had stopped by for a bag and gave me a ride to Minnehaha Liquors for a 6x7 shoot. Sat on a bus bench for over an hour waiting for dusk only to find that the owners of the store were using the neon only on Fri. and Sat. because of money. Bussed home then biked to Craig's but him and Rick were gone. Later on I went to Andy's til about 12:30."
Tues Aug. 23, 1983 - "Sat around all day. Linda's stab still gnaws at me; emptiness inside. Nice day, not hot. In the evening Randy, Kevin, Liz and Andy went to my opening with me at the fairgrounds. 9 other photographers were in the featured exhibition with many photos and paintings in the general show. 2 of the most successful photographers in the invitational has the most awful work; Tom Arndt and Stuart Klipper. Hacks, in my all-knowing opinion. Karl, Chuba and R. Robbins met us down there (I don't even remember who they are). Because I wasn't able to print many 16x20's before I left on my trip the 6 in this show were too similar. The spiral door (a photo of a funhouse) and Looping Star (a ride), neither of which I had in 16x20 would've been better and together with using the Tornado (a photo of another State Fair ride) with pink sky instead of blue would've broken up all the blue and not made it look like I'm only capable of taking one kind of photo. (You can see these photos my visiting my site: http://www.jamesmaystock.com. Click on Documentary on the left side and then Urbanscapes.)
Wed. Aug. 24, 1983 - "Dreamt of Linda and was pulled to see her in the warm sunlit morning. Biked over but no one answered the door. On the way home I saw her car near The Egg and I (a breakfast place 1 1/2 blocks from my mothers). Waited a long time for her to come out. We talked in the street for a long time. Nothing was resolved but I felt her thaw, if ever so slightly. Ran downtown and got a haircut at Hairport for $15. Sat around in the evening."
I probably should mention that, by Sept 13, although Linda had kept it a secret from me, I learned not only that she was seeing someone else but that the dumb fuck was represented by my own gallery. This was the real source of the anger and pain lingering on as it did. Usually in a situation like this, one can forget about the whole thing because you don't have to see them hanging about. But here this bitch was hanging out at The Egg and I, right in the very places I had been hanging out since I was 9 years old. On top of that, some fuck from Chicago and Linda thought they were not only going to make my gallery and all the openings and socializing that goes along with that a shit place for me to go but my own nieghborhood as well. My sweat and vomit and blood and DNA were on those streets. This was the home base, 27th and Lyndale in South Minneapolis. I had walked past the Minneapolis College of Art and Design everyday during my 5 years of grade school at St. Stephen's school and had graduated from MCAD.
I literally could not believe that this stupid bitch thought I was going to take this laying down. Fuck that. On top of all this, that first time Linda and I had seen each other she had made it seem as if it was me she didn't want to be with and never mentioned another man, nothing. She was a fucking liar. I had to find out by accident and when I learned who it was, a guy in my own gallery I was hopping mad and really hurt. I simply could not believe a person who had been my lover and my friend would be so absolutely uncaring and insensitive enough to pollute my own gallery which was important in my future plans as a fine art photographer. It was fucking galling and I was not going to take this hurt from them and not give them back some of it.
As you may have ascertained from the way I sometimes behaved on my trip and from the nature of my business, I was not the type of person to fuck around with, and that was doubly true for my own neighborhood. There was no way a couple of shits from NE Minneapolis and Chicago were going to shit in my pool. The funny thing is that Linda never could quite understand what I was so angry about. That is a tribute to how egotistical and self-centered she was; and this cunt wanted to be a writer if you can believe that. Unless you're going to write Harlequin Romance or action-adventure novels you'd better stay away from this kind of bullshit if you want to be a writer on the fine art side of things. What are you going to muse about? About how mystified you become when you poke a bear with a sharp stick and it tries to claw you? Maybe you can write dissertations on how to be a shit. Linda once said to me when we were talking about things like this and I quote, "I'm not a shit". I don't care what anybody says, acting like Linda did is death for an artist; artists, good artists, traffic in truth and opening the doors of perception, not in how to fuck people over.
When I would get together and try to talk to Linda we were talking a totally different language, totally at cross purposes. She thought in terms of chemistry and emotions as if this would carry her like a leaf on the wind, unable to say or do anything about it. I thought in terms of there being certain things you don't do no matter how much you wanted to and you didn't fuck over your friends just cuz what you were doing felt good. If you only keep a promise when it's easy then you're a shit.
I lamented the fact that these people had so little thoughts of the feelings of other people. Not once did this pitiful excuse of a man ever try and contact me to talk it out. There are thousands of people in Minneapolis and there was no need to fuck me like this. 100 years before, a person like Linda could have been sued for breach of promise cuz the community had standards designed to embarrass and punish people who dishonored others. Dueling was still somewhat in fashion although outlawed. Do you think for one minute that that cunt of a man would have been fucking around in my business with my woman if he had to fight for her; not for one minute - he would have dropped her like a hot potato. It's only when you start to put shit right back onto people like Linda and her "man" that they all of a sudden develop feelings, only when they stand to get fucked over themselves. That's because the're white trash shits who don't give a fuck about other people, only themselves. Other people don't bleed, only they do.
This is the kind of thoughts that would go around and around in my mind until I thought I couldn't take the pain anymore. It was almost too much too bear, almost. But I will admit there were 2 instances when I did break and literally could not stand the pain and humiliation of it any longer. Had this guy and Linda not been around where I'd have to be in constant contact with them it would've been different. All I can say is that on one occasion that I broke, Linda was not at home. The second occasion was lucky for me and for that fuck of a man cuz he wasn't at a party he was supposed to be at and I was on the hunt. I snuck into that party with harm in mind and my hand of a weapon and fate said no. The madness eventually passed but it was a close thing. I know this sounds like a spoiled brat who can't stand being said no to but it wasn't like that and even if it was, Linda was being equally stubborn except she had no right on her side. Some people push other people in ways they just shouldn't and they shouldn't be surprised when people push back. If your going to treat a person like a dog then you shouldn't be surprised when they start acting like one. I absolutely was not going to put up with people shitting in my back yard and then basically ordering me to deal with it. What I heard them saying by their actions was: hey, what are you going to do about it? People like Linda and this fuck have no shame and the only way you can reach them is to put some pain right back on them, then they sit up straight and alert because all of a sudden they have to eat some shit too. Fuck I hate people like that.
I have no fond memories of Linda, only shitty ones. I have no hopes or hatred for her one way or the other. In the long run she fucked herself over worse than she ever did me because she gave up any right to be thought of as a human being in the full sense of the word. In the Jewish Torah they make a distintion between humans and humans who are animals. Here in the States we call them white trash because they don't know any better. Fuck them and fuck people like Linda.
The most amusing thing about this type of behaviour is the one thing they never think about: and that is that people see and know how I treated Linda and know I didn't deserve this. How could I have done anything a continent away? So in the back of this guy's mind he knows that the same thing could happen to him any time cuz it's all just chemistry, here today and gone tomorrow. And Linda's friends who knew me have the same thought in the back of their minds. That's how I know Linda and her circle of friends are nothing but a bunch of shits; they either don't care cuz they're the same way or they all end up keeping a wary eye on each other like a pack of dogs. The reality is all this hurtful rationalizing is lost on these people. When Linda and I got together and I tried to reach her I may as well have been talking ancient Greek.
All I can say is, I wish dueling was still in fashion in 1983 cuz with this cunt of a guy I would've walked away without having to do a thing cuz that was the kind of man he was. I know that cuz one time cuz I kicked down some stairs coming out of a party one night and then I went right up to him and slapped him and he didn't do a fucking thing, and right in front of his girlfriend Linda. What a pussy. I had a guy in Rio put a knife to my throat from behind in 2000 and take my camera right out of my hand. My camera is here with me and I can't tell you where that erstwhile thief is. What's a slap compared to that? And too bad there was no more breach of promise when it comes to matters of love in 1983, where you have to allow your name to be published in the paper like in Victorian England and admit publically that you are a person without honor or face civil penalties.
People aren't like that any more. Honor is a word that barely exists in the English language nowadays. People feel like they should be able to do whatever the fuck they want. Fuck them.
Thur. Aug. 25, 1983 - "Slept late, went downtown to buy some 120 film for the 1st day of the fair. At 6 I bussed to the fair, got some decent pix. Many rides were gone from last year; the Looping Star, Tornado, Zipper and Enterprise. Good, clear dusk. Played a little pinball; very warm night. Got back a 11:30. I wasn't feeling so damaged by Linda's foolishness but neither has the pain gone away. In a way, I admire her less every day. She seems to have little realization of what is at stake."
I will plead guilty to being overly dramatic. I tend to overreact and act like a jitterbug. In reading these entries you'd think a fucking A-Bomb had gone off or something. I plead guilty to having this type of a soul. While I think of myself as a pragmatic rationalist I am also something of a dreamer. Every trip I have ever gone on and the things I did on those trips were the result of daydreaming. You have to have something of a romantic soul to be attracted to the idea of sitting atop Agung Volcano on the island of Bali with a full moon illuminating the entire island 10,000 ft. below and then set out to do it. I guess the flip side of that is a inflated sense of injury in affairs of the heart.
Fri. Aug. 26, 1983 - "Called Anita in the afternoon at the travel agency about my MCO which I'd forgotten about and also to ask her out. She was very friendly and said we'd get together for a drink. She's a handsome woman with a full body. I'm going to give her a slide show and invite her to my show at Barry-Richards. I love older woman when they're in shape. Dashed over to Brand's (Camera) and learned Larry's SX-70 does take a cable release (I had some fine art polaroids in mind). Didn't go to the fair cuz it clouded up."
Sat. Aug. 27, 1983 - "Didn't do much today. I was hoping Deb would call cuz it was too clouded up to go to the fair. Watched some of Dallas 34-31 win over Houston. Why Linda?"
Sounds like I was a pretty boring fuck but in those days before cell phones the only way to sell weed was to be by a telephone and I was anxious to get into my own apt. and get things moving.
Sun. Aug. 28, 1983 - "Woke around noon. Randy and I went to some guys house in Bob's (my older brother) car to get his TV then we went for a ride around the lakes. I biked to K-mart for some 120 film. Ray (who'd stopped over for a bag) gave me a ride downtown from where I bussed to the fair. Got some good pix, mostly behind the rides. When walking towards the farm equipment to check the lighting there, I ran into my old friend, Sure-Shot (my favorite pinball machine in Brazil). It was a more modern version called 8-Ball Deluxe. It didn't at all have the fell of the ones in Brazil but it was fun to play it again. Won a lot but it took me all night to hit the bank shot. When I left it must have been nearly midnight. While waiting for the bus dwntwn a good storm started up, whipping litter about. Came home in the rain."
The Minnesota State Fair is one of the largest of it's kind in the United States and has a tradition going back decades. I loved to take medium format long exposures at dusk on warm summer nights amidst all the color and noise. I hope some day my documents of the State Fair will come to have some value.
Mon. Aug. 29, 1983 -"Rode my bike out to Kevin's to drop of a bag on yet another hot 90 degree day. Got there around 3 and gave him his presents from the trip. Sat around the rest of the day. Watched 'On Her Majesty's Secret Service'. Couldn't stop thinking of Linda all day. Still feel pretty rotten, angry."
Tues. Aug. 30, 1983 - "Woke around noon, wasted away most of the afternoon. Went to look at my apt. and pay the rent but didn't because they said I couldn't move in til Thurs and didn't want to pay for the 8 days I wouldn't be using the apt. Hot day for biking, ran dwntwn to pick up Kim's negs (of her wedding) and to drop off some negs. Didn't feel like going to the fair tonite. Dave D. called to say he was selling a few things. He offered to sell me a mirror for $20 which is real big. I'd like to get the beautiful buffet he's selling for $250 but it's sold already. Lost my temper at Bill tonite, broke his glasses but fixed them. (Bill was drunk and said some really shitty things about Dave who he doesn't even know. I picked up his glasses and threw them on the floor)"
Sat. Sept. 3, 1983 - (Skipped a couple of days for some reason) "Paid my rent, sat around. Linda's callousness bugging me all day. I've known not a moment of happiness since my return because of that cunt. Oddly enough it was much tougher when I separated from Deb. Linda is sick inside or maybe it's just that she's as stupid as a teenager. She's so insensitive and selfish but is convinced otherwise. By the time she realizes the value of a friend like me it'll be too late. Her obssession with her divorce will destroy many months of her life. Deb regretted her stupidity and so it will go with Linda. Did my college predictions today. (I used to predict college football games every season for 15 years as a hobbie) Cloudy all day, didn't hit the fair. Still haven't heard from Deb about dinner; wonder if she changed her mind? Wish I were in Rio."
Well, I make myself seem like quite the fellow. I have no idea what I meant in speaking of Linda's divorce because as I recall it really wasn't an issue. Had it been I imagine it would have been more along the lines of not wanting to be with anybody rather than just me. Of course it's always possible that she felt she didn't want to get close to me because she didn't want anyone falling in love with her. On the other hand I had every reason to believe that she really liked this guy she was seeing so I dunno. The whole thing preyed on my mind constantly.
Sun. Sept. 4, 1983 -"Watched the Vikes beat Cleveland today 27-21 then watched my prediction of a Jets upset over San Diego come true 41-29. Too overcast for the fair."
Mon. Sept. 5, 1983 -"Wasted day mostly. Ma, Bill and I ran to LaBelle's to pick up a bookshelf each. Visited Kenny for some biz ." (He was my supplier for weed).
Tues. Sept. 6, 1983 -"Went downtown and picked up a couple rolls of negatives shot at the fair and a couple more boxes of slides from the trip. Slept away the evening in a chair. These days have been so filled with emptiness and loneliness for Linda. It's not that she's that great but that I believed her. Lot's of cunts like her in MPLS."
Wed. Sept. 7, 1983 -"Went to my apt. cuz it's finally done, to pick up the keys and have a look. Pretty nice, I think I'm gonna like it. Even had some blinds for the windows. Don't know when I'll move in, maybe Sunday. Couldn't stay away any longer so I went to see Linda. We had yet another long and for me painful talk in her apt. She's as cold as ice. Rather than feeling apologetic over our last conversation she said it had made her angry. She's done quite a job on herself. Soon she'll be convinced I dumped her. Nothing was accomplished. I'm to see her tomorrow. God help me, I'm looking forward to it. She's convinced herself that our 5 months together weren't real, but that her doubts were. Visited Terry and Sue (to drop off some product) The pain over Linda made me go to sleep in a chair just to get away from it."
So, 6 weeks after my return I had an apt. Pretty fast jumping on that so I was pretty happy on that score. I had a pretty lively business, and all in cash so it wasn't all that tough. Love my ma but didn't want to be living in a situation like that; it was like I was still on the road with none of my stuff, books, furniture, around me. I was to spent 15 months in that apt. before going off on what would turn out to be another fantastic trip in what was to be a kind of a reprise of this 1983 trip to South America only this time a month with volcanos and Guatemala would come first and a really fun 6 months in Rio, Bolivia and Peru would follow. I certainly deserved it after all this bullshit and was happier than hell to be back in Rio, this time for a glorious 4 months there and 2 month in Bolivia and Peru. I had to get the fuck out of Minneapolis and back to what made me happy.
Fri. Sept 9, 1983 - "Went to see Linda. We sat for hours talking the same crap and getting eaten by mosquitos at Lake of the Isles. Nothing solved, at least she kissed me. Paid her the $28 I owed her for taking her car keys to Rio. Went dwntwn from her place to buy a football mag. Heard 2 outrageously beautiful ballads on Soundstage on PBS by Etta James, a right on fat, black lady. She sent tingly rushes thru me. She sang 'Sugar On the Floor 'which was written by Kiki Dee and 'I'd Rather Be Blind' (than see you walk away) with Dr. John which was killer, stuff from the soul. I'm gonna buy somma this. I feel sad, sad; Linda said that she's been happy to be around him and not me (nice, huh?) She's looking for too much. She's put a barrier between us from the first we met when I came back. She said that. She's blowing it for us for a nameless feeling. Can't win them all I guess but I keep taking it on the chin and I don't want to lose her. Shit."
In reading this after so many years it's pretty obvious that I was in denial. But it wasn't only that. For whatever reason I had decided to fight for this. Now, looking back, I should have taken her at her word and been man enough to walk away. It would've been easier if she hadn't been such an incredible bitch to me and rather had tried to talk about it with me instead of lying to me about the guy in the first place, never clueing me in that I was going to walk into an incredible surprise at the gallery some day. Luckily I had some friends who knew us all and told me what was happening at the same time Linda was trying hide it. It's hard to walk away from a situation like that; what keeps you going is the false memory of our time together. When I came back and Linda acted like a totally lying and cold hearted cunt I should have accepted that at face value and moved on instead of telling myself that this wasn't the person I knew and that she couldn't really be like this.
Eventually, 2 1/2 months after I saw her for the first time since my return I did exactly that. Even though I had got to the point where I thought I had a chance of winning her back, I had realized that the way Linda had behaved was in fact who she was and I didn't want anything to do with it. I asked her to leave my apt. one night when come over to visit and said I was giving up and that I would never bother her again. I never tried to contact her again nor her me other than cornering me at a school reunion to talk to me the following summer; I told her to fuck off and walked away. I have never seen her again although she has been around South Minneapolis. I eventually left the gallery scene cuz there was just too many bad associations, too many people I just didn't like in that crowd. Too many phony fucks like Linda and her sorry excuse for a man. The fact that they were such bad artist's was my only consolation when it came to the world of fine art.
By the time I had seen Linda at that school reunion I had hooked up with a woman who was warm and affectionate and not at all fascinated by her own sex appeal which was considerable. I know I make it sound as if I was the only guy ever dumped but rationalizing it didn't make it hurt any less. Eventually the pain faded but the fact that Linda was a no-talent cold hearted fuck with no morals who was using this guy to advance her non-career as an artist did not fade; it was a permanent part of her, skin she couldn't shed while I went on to accomplish many incredible goals in my life and that is the only other consolation over this I ever had. The best revenge is to live a good life. If that all sounds childish and graceless then maybe you've never felt the pain I went through although I'll wager you have. Maybe pain brings out the best in some but it certainly did not in me though I fought against it - not so successfully I guess. If you've never felt this driving pain, congratulations. Unfortunately for me there were yet some weeks and months of pain ahead.
Sat. Sept. 10, 1983 - "Watched football and decided in the late afternoon to get the trailer and do a couple of loads. What a workout up all those stairs. Stayed the night. I like the way my apt. is shaping up."
Sun. Sept. 11, 1983 - "Bob came over to wake me in the early afternoon. We moved mostly boxes and wrapped all the moving up."
Mon. Sept. 12, 1983 - "Dropped a bag at Larry's, stopped at the ma's. Watched San Diego-KC on Monday Night Football."
Tues. Sept. 13, 1983 - "Picked up the money Larry owed me for his portrait. Paid my $180 lab fee at MCAD. On the way to Uncle Hugo's I ran into Craig and found out who it was Linda had been seeing and that he was represented by my gallery. Fuck was I pissed."
Having a darkroom to make color prints was a problem because the temperature controls are much more critical than for black and white. You can do black and white prints in a closet. Luckily for me the college allow access if one paid a fee. I had some good work to print and a lot of it and it was the only time I wasn't feeling pain. I believed in my photography, felt it was the real thing and that gave me a solid center that helped me through this whole thing. Business was steady so money wasn't a problem. It wasn't a huge amount but about as much as a decent full-time job. Money bedevils those who start out in the fine arts and this to me was a perfect solution. It's not easy to paint or draw or do photography after an 8 hr. day. It's boring hanging out so much waiting for people to call but that was my job and not so bad.
Wed. Sept. 14, 1983 - "Rained all day."
Thur. Sept. 14, 1983 - "Sat around. Went to the opening of 'The Secret Garden' at the Children's Theatre in the Minneapolis Institute of Art."
Fr. Sept. 15, 1983 - "Jerome stopped over and I caught a ride with him downtown. Visited the gallery (Barry-Richards, now a shit place to go), looked at some stuff for my bathroom at Woolworth's. Sat around at night. Still nuts over Linda."
Sat. Sept. 17, 1983 -"Was watching football and doing my college picks when Linda called. We met at the Fresh Squeeze (a breakfast place near Lake and Hennepin) and talked for hours. I think I'm reaching her, but just a little. I kissed her. Met Randy at the bowling alley and we played the pins for awhile."
Sun. Sept. 18, 1983 -"Watched the Vikes, put shit away from boxes. Sat around. Saw Steve and Lori for the 1st time since my return. (friends)
Mon. Sept. 19, 1983 - "Ethan got me up around mid-afternoon and we talked for awhile. Sat around. Went to Lunds, watched football."
Tues. Sept 20, 1983 - "Didn't do much."
Wed. Sept. 21 -"Went back to sleep tho I'd set my alarm for 7. Went to MCAD around midday and shot a whole box of color paper on proofsheets from Brazil and this year's State Fair. Got some good shit and a lot of work ahead of me. Visited Andy at his new house then bussed home at dusk. Ate my 1st steak in my apt. Chris came over and we stayed up real late watching 'The Incredible Shrinking Man'.
Thur. Sept. 22, 1983 - "Rose around 1, visited Ken, bought a new trash can. Talked with Kevin, fucked around. Ate a steak, ordered spaghetti late. Still feeling bad about Linda all the time."
Fri. Sept. 23, 1983 - "Went dwntwn and picked up my 2nd box of 11x14 paper this darkroom session. Visited a photo gallery called Imprimatur. I certain the guy who runs the place could sell a lot of photos for me but Thom didn't seem to like the idea."
Sat. Sept. 24, 1983 - "Watched football all day. Went to Felix's party."
Sun. Sept. 25, 1983 -"Watched the Vikes stumble past Detroit 20-17 with Randy. Went to Terry and Sue's for eats."
Mon. Sept. 26, 1983 - "Got up at 7 to hit the darkroom but couldn't find the 22 trip rolls I hadn't proofed yet. 2 hrs. later I gave up and went back to sleep. When I woke up around noon I suddenly remembered where I'd put them. Split for the college and ran the proofs thru but 15 came out all fucked. Mark wasn't around to fix it so I split. Went to an opening at Barry-Richard Gallery, scared the whole time that I'd see Linda there. I gave Thom a sweater from Bolivia and Dick a bag from Brazil. Saw Ethan and Craig there. Very warm the last few days. Read most of 'Bagful of Dreams' by Vance from 'Flashing Swords 4'."
Tues. Sept. 27, 1983 - "Woke at 7:30 and headed for MCAD but the processor wasn't fixed yet. Unbelievably I waited til 3 for it to get fixed and proofed the last of my trip negs. Made several work prints that are just excellent. Got home around 10."
Wed. Sept. 28, 1983 - "Woke around noon on yet another very warm day. Finished off 'Bagful of Dreams' on the toilet. Went out to Minnesota Fabrics to get metal buttons for my jeans. Bought a blue bathroom set at Target. Visited Kenny and went over to ma's for awhile."
Thur. Sept. 29, 1983 - "Woke around 11 and later on got a ride from Ray to dwntwn. Bought 'Kiss To Be Clever' by Culture club, picked up telephone books, and got a blue bath rug and bought some color photo paper, at Bill's expense; ate at Whopper, visited Phil Larson's show at the Thompson Gallery. Napped in the early evening. Watched Monty Python and later on argued with Felix about racism" (Felix is from Ghana and a guy I went to college with. He died a senseless death a year before I wrote this cuz of some harmless medication he was taking after knee surgery. He was a teacher at the MPLS Technical and Community College downtown for many years and the students loved him. By an odd coincidence I was going to shool there at the time for a year to make the switch to digital photography and learn to make my own websites.)
Fri. Sept. 30, 1983 - "Got up early and hit the darkroom til 4. Made some more really nice workprints. Hit Shinder's for a Football News and went home. Sat around at night."
Sat. Oct. 1, 1983 - "Woke at 10 on another warm day and went for a ride around Lake of the Isles on my bike. Very strenuous. Watched boring Big 10 football. Ma stopped over and I gave her Kim's wedding prints. Cut up my proof sheets all nights to get them ready for a 3 ring binder. Linda is still a constant ache and anger in my heart. Read some Marune by Jack Vance. Randy called about 3 AM talking like he had a bunch of coins but when he came over all he had were a few things he'd stolen. Didn't buy them. Went to sleep at 5 AM."
Sun. Oct. 2, 1983 - "Woke at 11:30 and watched the Vikes punk out against Dallas 37-24. Visited Kenny's on my bike, in shorts yet. (Oct. in usually not shorts on a bike weather in MPLS) Visited ma's but nobody was around so I played with the ball with Doo-Doo. (Doo-Doo was a tiny little mutt who we'd gotten when I still lived at home when he was a little puppy. We had a silly little game we played with a ball he liked. I loved that little dog.) Started 'Paradise Street'."
Mon. Oct. 3, 1983 - "Woke at 7:30 but fucked around and didn't get out til 10. Lost half a box of color paper on the bus stop. I was smokin' but didn't flip out, just went dwntwn and bought some more. Finished of 'The Moon Men' and started 'Red Hawk while working in the darkroom. Got home just in time for the Jet-Bills game. Fell asleep in the 4th quarter and didn't wake til 1:30, just in time to go back to sleep for the darkroom tomorrow."
Tues. Oct. 4, 1983 - "Went to the bus station to pick up my color paper some good samaritan had left at the lost and found. Went dwntwn to pick up my negs of Minnehaha Liquors which unfortunately all had lens flare and will have to be redone. Worked in the darkroom til 4."
Wed. Oct. 5, 1983 - "Went dwntwn for a 3 ring binder and reinforcements and visited Hugo's. Prepared proofsheets for a 3 ring binder all evening."
Thur. Oct. 6, 1983 - "Looked at my pulp collection all morning, napped til 4. Randy watched baseball with me. I'm bugged all day, every day over Linda."
Fri. Oct. 7, 1983 - "Woke early, showered and went to the darkroom on a cool, grey, wet day. Worked til 6:30, ran dwntwn for a Football News. Had 24 hrs. of 'Leave It To Beaver' on Channel 41, watched some of that."
Sat. Oct. 8, 1983 - "Woke at 11, started to finish my football predictions. Sunny, brisk day - biked to Kenny's, Dorn's and stopped at Ma's and checked out my drumset that Randy renovated. Randy came over later and we watched the Phillies advance to the World Series by whippin' LA. Not an hour goes by that I don't think of what Linda has done. It's been 3 wks. since I've seen her. She obviously has no sense of urgency about this but I'm running out of patience."
Sun. Oct. 9, 1983 - "Woke before noon and watched the 1st half of the Vikes-Chicago game before going to Ma's for a get together she was having for Bob and Bill's birthday. Saw Charlie Goodwater for the 1st time in years. (Charlie is my uncle by adoption) Dan, Marie, Genelle and Grandma were there. We ate meatloaf and tunasalad and potatoes. Randy and I played the drumset in the basement for awhile. Genelle and 2 girls my uncle Archie had brought over rassled and ran around in the yard for a long time. Finally went home at 9."
Mon. Oct. 10, 1983 - "Sat around all day looking at pulps, cleaning. Watched Monday Night Football."
Tues. Oct. 11, 1983 - "Sat around for awhile and the anger finally became too great and I left a message on Linda's phone. When she finally called it got nasty right off. I told her she'd be drawing assault charges from an intensive care if I ever saw her with that fuck in my gallery and that my gallery was not something she had any business turning into a sad place for me; that she was going to treat me with dignity and respect whether she liked it or not. She got to the point where she said she didn't even see how we could ever be friends again. I gave her a final ultimatum: something had to give before we got off the phone or shit would fly. We calmed down and she agreed to visit me tomorrow. All I want is a chance. I mean to have her back and if I don't it won't be because I didn't try. Feel crazy."
Fuck, maybe I am crazy. Weird reading that. Was I that much of a big fucking cry baby? One thing is for sure, I do not like people sticking me with bullshit and hurt and then thinking they're gonna just ride off into the sunset; if someone is going to make me eat a shit sandwich for no good reason then they're taking a fucking bite. I didn't know who the fuck this bitch thought she was treating me or anybody else in the world like she was treating me. Still, I'm not sure there's really any excuse for acting like this. I didn't start with the bullshit but still... When somebody basically says I'm doing this and there's not a fucking thing you can do about it it stings like a bitch and I have no trouble at all with the idea of putting some of that sting right back on their fucking asses which is where it belongs in the first place. Fuck these motherfuckers.
Wed. Oct. 12, 1983- "Linda came over around 1 and it was amazingly smooth and natural under the circumstances. We caught up on each other's life. We hugged a lot and I kissed her on the cheek alot. She admitted it felt different to actually just be with me and I didn't feel the wall for the very first time. I must win or I don't know what I'll do. Randy and I watched the World Series and listened to records and talked about drumming til late. Linda, Linda, Linda. She thinks a promise is only kept if it's easy."
Thur. Oct. 13, 1983 - "Went to Barry-Richards Gallery at 10 to show Thom my work prints. Bought a box of 16x20 color paper; $70. Looks like I'll have my show in the Spring. Went to Hugo's today and bought Vance's new book, 'Lyonesse' (the 1st volume in a really incredible fantasy trilogy. I think Jack Vance is as fine a prose stylist as any American in the 20th century; but, he writes science fiction and fantasy and so is ignored by the mainstream but us SF and Fantasy fans know better) and 'The Deceivers' by Alfred Bester. (Bester wrote what many consider as fine an SF novel as ever written, 'The Stars My Destination')
Fri. Oct. 14, 1983 - "Woke at 7:30, went back to sleep til 9. Laid around, showered, waited for Jerome (business), ate at Butler Drug's (I'd been going in that drug store on 26th and Nicollet since I was 9 years old) and didn't finally get into the darkroom til 2. Finished making workprints of everything I have. Stayed til about 8:30. When I got on the 18 bus to get a Football News downtown some jive nigger jumped on my case cuz I pushed his leg out of the aisle with my case. (The bus was totally full and this fuck had his leg way out in the aisle in total disregard of everybody else) He said he was gonna kick my ass and came at me but I jumped up and he didn't."
Sat. Oct. 15, 1983 - "Sat around all afternoon with Randy. All night I did nothing. Bummed."
Sun. Oct. 16, 1983 - "Watched the Vikes slap Houston 34-14. Showered and went to the comic convention with Kevin. We went to the Nankin and I pigged out on chicken wings and duck. I was real high when I sat down, we both laughed a lot and also later when he came over to my place and Randy came over. (must've been some good weed) Watched 'Westworld'."
Mon. Oct. 17, 1983 - "Kevin woke me up early with a phonecall and we went to a bookstore on Broadway and then downtown to Shinder's. I picked up my last 7 rolls of film from the trip at Brand's Camera, $35. Kevin then brought me home. Randy then came over around 4 for the game at 8. I edited 2 rolls of slides from Carnaval on the slide projector, the 1st time I've edited since coming home. Pretty shitty slides. Randy and I were treated to a whale of a game that set a record for most points scored on a Mon. Night game, Green Bay 48, Washington 47. Wash. missed a fairly easy field goal at the end."
Tues. Oct. 18, 1983 -"Went to the darkroom but th processor was down Hung around awhile but Mark wasn't fast about it. Visited Thom at the gallery. Edited about 15 rolls of slides til the bulb finally gave out after all these years."
Wed. Oct. 19, 1983 - "Visited Linda at 1 on a gray, drizzly day. Painful progress was made. We were nice to each other and perhaps the distance closed. She said it didn't feel romantic yet tho. How can it be when kissed her only once in the last 9 1/2 mon.? Oh, well. I was bummed when I went home and laid in bed sleeping and thinking all evening, all night til morning except for when Kevin came over for awhile."
Thur. Oct. 20, 1983 - "Went to the darkroom but Mark was using my enlarger so I went over to the museum (Institute of Arts) to look at Atget's 'Old Paris' show. Nice. But I was bummed."
Fri. Oct. 21, 1983 - "Worked in the darkroom til 8:30 making 16x20's for the 1st time this year. Corrected a problem with the unlevel easels that hurt the focus of my 16x20's in the corners. Ran downtown for a Football News."
So I finally woke up and stopped being such a whining pussy. I'd only seen Linda 5 or 6 times in the 3 months I'd been back so the reality wasn't as bad as all the anger and pain I expressed in my journal. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I'm not really a stalker. One writes all kind of crazy shit in a journal and it's important to remember that I never at any time ever intended for another human to read any of my entries and no one ever has. Eventually I'll submit this memoir somewhere or other but that'll be a first. I realized and accepted for the first time just what kind of a woman Linda was and all these years later I see her as a self-centered, cold hearted lying cunt. She a woman like the lyrics in an Elton John song I liked when I was a teenager: "There are women and women and, some hold you tight while, some leave you counting the stars in the night". Her actions finally spoke to me and to put it as simply as possible they were the actions of a fucking cunt as far as I was concerned. That was that and good ridance. Let her and her fuck of a man do their thing and fuck other people and themselves over; I had other fish to fry and they didn't include hanging out with any motherfuckers in Minneapolis.
That's pretty much the end of this part of the story of my trip to South America and Guatemala at the very tail end of 1982 and the first half of 1983. Pretty story? I know it's dull in parts, fun in others and whiny too. What can I say. This is what happened to me.