Waving farewell to our indigenous family and jungle home in Padre Cocha, we crammed our 6 bags and ourselves into a tiny lancha (boat taxi) with 8 other passengers.   The boat floated barely inches above the water line as we bit our fingers, anxiously watching our computers and camera equipment play chicken with oncoming waves.   Not 15 minutes later our lancha pooped out, having run out of gas, and we spent the next 2 hours bumping along the river bank until another boat came for our rescue.  Meanwhile, we missed our flight out of the jungle and subsequently every flight after that.  After 36 hours of airport finagling, we slept at the gate and woke up to Peruvian families posing for family photos in front of us as if we were a homeless gringo art installation.   On our way through customs, we were profiled and searched in Panama and Florida because of Jefe’s shaggy beard and handmade, psychedelic, flower pants he picked up from the Shipibo Tribe.  What seemed like ages later, we finally made it home to Austin, Texas.

            After a couple months reintegrating into Western life, coping with reverse culture shock, and bringing some form of stability into our lives, we are gearing up to hit the road again!   In three weeks we are taking off for the West coast, but until then, we are planting a few seeds in Austin.

            In May we connected with Burners Without Borders who shipped us supplies to set up a booth at a local festival.  We ran the booth to inform the Austin Burning Man community about the work BWB does in Pisco, Peru and around the world. 

            Our Pisco Sin Fronteras film was selected for the Lights. Camera. Help film festival, a film festival solely showcasing cause-driven films.   Out of 230 films submitted from around the globe, ours was 1 of 30 chosen.  Hooray!  We invite you to join us here in Austin at 7pm on Thursday, July 29th at the Mexican American Cultural Center, to watch the film and hear us speak on the panel.  The festival goes on all weekend.  For more information about the festival visit http://www.lightscamerahelp.org/. 

            Early/mid-August we plan to host a screening and benefit party to relate our extraordinary experiences in South America, celebrate the journey of art and service, and share our vision for continuing the mission in the United States.  We’re still searching to lock down our venue, suggestions?  We’ll keep you posted!

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A 20-minute lancha ride outside of Iquitos, the largest city in the world inaccessible by car, is Padre Cocha, a village of 3,000 with no cars or electricity longer than 5 hours in the night.   A 25-minute walk into the jungle is La Quebrada Del Amor (The River Bend of Love), where we have been camping with 7 others.  The family opens their land as a gift to anyone and everyone to live, share, and enjoy la tranquilidad de la naturaleza.

Each morning we are greeted at the break of dawn by Mamita with her grandiose hug that lifts Kelly off the ground with a laugh of radiant joy, and Papacho Juan with his big toothless smile.  Ready with machete in hands they head off to the field to dig up yucca to prepare and enjoy all day.  Then the rest of the family and extended family trickle in throughout the day to help on the property, socialize, share meals of yucca, fish, and rice cooked over the fire, and to take a dip in the swimming hole.

For a day Kelly volunteered at the local Butterfly and Animal Sanctuary for animals rescued from the black market and within the first 5 minutes was attacked by a monkey, who gnawed through her finger.  Meanwhile, an anteater type creature was stuck down her shirt therefore she couldn’t maneuver out of the cage and had to be rescued by the local workers.  After recovering, they fished out a sunken, tiny canoe and gave her the task of paddling around in the pond to gather reeds for the turtles.  Probably because she was the only one who could fit inside the canoe without it sinking again.  She enjoyed the tranquility of floating around and the monkeys jumping on and off the boat to munch on the reeds and pat her head.  Later, when a group of visitors were given a tour, the guide started throwing food into the water to attract a creature.  We all stood around, wondering in anticipation, and then out pops the head of a crocodile bigger than Kelly!  No more canoeing in that pond! 

Nothing is better than the red-faced monkeys swinging around, jumping on you, and sifting through your hair with tiny, delicate fingers looking for insect treats.  And boy, you will become their best friend if you do it for them in return.

The evening after working 9 hours in the heat of the jungle at the sanctuary, Kelly developed a migraine.  Within a minute of hearing this, Lucilia, the mother of the house, whipped up a concoction of leaves and sap, and gave Kelly a cooling head rinse.   We were informed that the headache was probably due to the monkey bite.

Billy, the patient and eager to please 19 year old, led Kelly and Vanessa to visit the Bora indigenous community because they are known for making bark fiber string, great for rainforest jewelry.  The first woman we met invited us into her house, and brought out tons of seeds, anaconda vertebrae, ribs, teeth, and bark fiber.  The girls stayed with the family for 2 hours chatting about seeds and trees.  What would have been 30 dollars in the States, Maria asked for 5 dollars.  Realizing this disparity, we offered her 30 soles (10 dollars) and she gasped expressing “ayyyy mucho”, as if she had never had that much money in one hand.   As we were leaving, she gifted Kelly a hand made, seeded and woven tribal top, worn in ceremonies so that we will always remember her.

Learning about Huito, a natural pigment used to cleanse and rejuvenate the skin, (while also dyeing your skin blue for 10 days), we were intent on trying it.  Billy led Kelly to Huito tree to collect the seed pods.  The tree was covered from root to leaf in ants heading to their colonies the size of bean-bag chairs on every limb.  Billy looked up, and then looked at Kelly “uh oh”. He took a deep breath, then shimmied up the trunk like a monkey.  As he shook the limbs, Kelly ran around like a maniac, ants running up her pants, trying to find each pod as they fell.   A few minutes later, he swung down from a high branch, landing roughly on the ground covered from head to toe by ants crawling into his eyes and ears.  “No me seguies!” (Don’t follow me!) Billy yelped, as he ran off into the bushes shedding his clothes.   Still not having enough Huito, he did it a second time this week!

One day after Kelly mashed a burning pepper with her fingers, she ran and hastily jumped into the creek to wash off the burn.  Crouched in the water washing her hands, she looked up to see a four foot coral snake (Naka Naka), red, white, and black slowly swimming past, two feet from her body.  As it swam away, she carefully left the water, and mentioned it to Papacho Juan.  His eyes perked up, and he raced to the waters edge in his big clunky boots and tiny knobby knees, machete raised.   Kelly felt bad that she was an accomplice in the death of the Naka Naka, but then again, it was very poisonous and they would enjoy it for lunch. 

On Sunday Morning, the Tangoa family guided us through the selva to teach us about all the medicinal plants in the region.  Walking through the rainforest without proper boots or attire pushes the boundaries of your fears and patience.  If it weren’t for our preoccupation with shoeing away the swarms of mosquitoes, we might obsess more about what serpents may wait ahead in the deep marshes we march through.  We were impressed with their knowledge of almost every tree, plant, or insect we encountered, and enjoyed trying in vain to match their skill of climbing seventy feet up a vine.  Jefe is starting to teach them English so that they may fulfill their desire to guide tours about medicinal plants.  Besides the handful of locals that pay 1 sole to swim at La Quebrada on the weekends, their only source of income is burning down their trees to make charcoal to send over to Iquitos. 

Jefe has found the relationship with all the ants and mosquitos to be an advanced meditation practice.  The sting of the incessant mosquito bites, like thoughts, will simply pass; however, if you indulge by scratching them, it will only make matters worse.  Mamita scrubbed a Camu Camu fruit on Jefe’s back so that the abrasive seeds would help release all the built-up pus.  But there is something poetic about becoming one with the blood of the jungle.  Each day as we acclimate more and more, there is a deep peace and tranquility under this organic canopy. 

After passionate conversations with Rider (the father) and OnJimmi (an artesano building an ecovillage on the land), we realized we had the resources to begin collaborating NOW instead of some distant future trip.  We are almost finished building our bungalow, La Casita Corazon Verde.  With only 50 US dollars we have provided all the material needs that aren’t already available on the property.  The work is hard and humbling.  You begin to realize how inefficient you are compared to the strength and knowledge of the indigenous.  What we have started seems to be the seeds of an important project.  A project to preserve ancient wisdom, protect the selva in a sacred area, and create a center for education, activism, and spiritual growth while living in harmony with Mother Nature’s richest yet severed vein, the mouth of the Amazon River.  Although set to return home in a few weeks, we’re excited to see what unfolds…

We took off from Lima for Iquitos on the deadliest road in Peru.  The mud road stretches for hundreds of kilometers, and in the rainy season, that means landslides, not to mention buses speeding past one another on a one-way lane.   We passed several areas where a landslide had just occurred and entire families were working together to dig out their houses, or make the road passable.  This cross also has the highest number of armed hijackings in the country.  For this reason, rather than take a bus for the tail end of the strip, we were suggested to hire a collectivo car.   We drove the last 6 hours out of 18, 6 people crammed into a 4 person car, with our luggage falling out of a trunk that didn’t shut.  So much for safety!  We let out a huge sigh of relief to be alive as we made it into Pucallpa, the port town where we loaded ourselves onto a Lancha (a cargo boat) to float down the feeder of the Amazon to the isolated jungle city of Iquitos.

 

We were incredibly fortunate to find a boat that was leaving within a couple hours to make the 3-5 day trip.  We made quick friends with Duarte from Portugal (the only other foreigner), who walked us through the procedures of passage.  Luckily, we didn’t fall for a guy at the port who tried to get us to pay him for entry (we didn’t have to pay until the middle of the night and straight to the captain).  Our ship was 4 stories high, loaded with tires, glass bottles, mattresses, fruits, pigs, chickens, and anything else they could cram on—including a floor full of passengers sleeping in hammocks like little pods lined up together and whole families crammed on the floor beneath us.  We made friends quickly with the locals, almost too quickly.  The first night Jefe put on a magic show for all the children, after which the demand for more “magia” was protested for the next 36 hours. 

 

Each morning we awoke to the sound of little chicks chirping under our hammocks, and at nights suffered through the 4 borrachos (drunks) on board that blasted pornographic music videos all night and didn’t seem to care that the other 200 of us were trying to sleep.  Although advised against it, we stomached the ship meals, which were cooked in river water gathered at the back of the boat…and tried to forget the fact that all the bathroom waste is flushed back there.  We stopped at port villages a couple times a day and were delighted to choose from a variety of fruits and sweets that women and children walked the boat to sell.  The papayas were so delicious, and cost only pennies. 

 

The days spent crunched shoulder-to-shoulder in our hammocks were suffocating, but we enjoyed the view of the deepening jungle, and little girls spent hours pulling lice out of Kelly’s hair (acquired by Ludoteca kids in Pisco).  We became attached to the Nacimento family who live in the small village San Ramon halfway between Pucallpa and Iquitos.  Kelly entertained them by teaching hula-hooping for hours on the third deck.  Jefe practiced his Spanish with their father Armando, who admitted that the biggest need they have in their village is a concrete pathway to prevent trenchfoot during the rainy season.  I overheard Jefe explaining the idea of the fourth dimension to Armando’s wife, who later asked in sincerity if he was Jesus Christo. 

 

We were on edge for a couple nights as the captain fired a pistol at a suspected pirate ship to scare them off.  We were very protective of our camera equipment, always keeping a guard on it, since theft is common in lancha travel.  When we arrived to Iquitos in only 76 hours, we were elated and satisfied our deprived taste buds at the “Yellow Rose of Texas”(which actually has the worst food in Iquitos!).  Before long we met up with Kelly’s friend Vanessa from Eckerd College, and headed with her on boat to a family she was staying with in the middle of the selva (jungle) under a cabana.  We have been camping out there now for a few days, bathing and drinking from the stream, cooking communal meals over a fire, and spending time with Mamita and Papaucho, our indigenous grandparents that call us their doll (Kelly) and son (Jefe). Sounds like paradise, until the mosquito’s will eat your flesh right off your back if you’re not in the tent before 6 pm!  Enjoying this simple lifestyle has made us question whether we are ready to head back on a plane to the States next month…

Gaian Path journeys to Pisco, Peru from Chile via four night buses.
   
After experiencing the 8.8 Chilean Earthquake from the other side of the Andes, we felt called to be of service; however, we learned that the road across the border was closed, and as the days passed that volunteers were being turned away.  Realizing that we may just be in the way for Phase I disaster relief, we decided to head to Pisco, Peru to join forces with Pisco Sin Fronteras—a reconstruction project in Peru passed on by Burners Without Borders in response to the 8.0 Earthquake that destroyed 80% of homes in Pisco and claimed over 600 lives in August 2007. 

 
Rewind to September 2009 in Black Rock City, where our organization and partnership formed.  We were both new to BRC traveling with our circus community from Austin, Texas, eager to spread our creativity and joy at festivals out west.  Jefe was a primetime TV producer/cameraman tired of squandering his talents for the weapons of mass distraction.  Kelly had just completed degrees in Political Science, Environmental Studies, and International Relations but was being drawn to the performance life as a professional fire-hooper and partner acrobat.  We fell in love at the Mecca of generosity and creativity, and quickly realized that the promptings of our hearts were revealing the same path.  Jefe quit the television industry and Kelly abandoned her performance persona.  We formed Gaian Path to fuse our extensive backgrounds in video production and humanitarian work.  Now traveling across South America volunteering for NPOs and producing videos for them, we are excited to announce our next collaboration with Burners Without Borders/Pisco Sin Fronteras.
   

In the first week we have been inspired by the energetic efforts of this dynamic organization, and happy to see that the Burners Without Borders culture is still very present.  We are enjoying the company of 109 humanitarians from 15 different countries, including locals who are rebuilding their community.  New volunteers are taking positions of leadership and spearheading new projects, engaging in creative fundraisers for the Miracle Fund (Bob auctioned off his fluffy back and chest hair by letting us rip waxing strips off his body to the highest bidder—the nipple region topped the bidding at 20$ a piece), and participating in construction projects from the foundation up, side-by-side with the Peruvian families we are helping. 
   

The BioDiesel Project is one of the real gems of the synergetic evolution to take the reconstruction resources to the next level.  Working with Jimmy and Lynn (original Burners Without Borders Peru), we collected used vegetable oil from restaurants/hotels around town.  The process of transforming it into a viable product with the BWB BioDiesel Reactor (The Mutaytor) promises to be a sustainable model that will generate funds for families that still don’t have the money for construction materials, or possibly empowering the community by micro-financing small local business ideas.  The project is gaining momentum and it is so encouraging to witness the birth of a replicable model that could revolutionize the way grassroots relief efforts may be funded. 


We are still spreading our circus love!  Last night the PSF volunteers participated in Hector’s 7th birthday party.  Hector’s mother, Vitalina, has continued to run the Ludoteca free daycare project providing a safe-space for some of the most underserved children of La Alameda.  We were excited to dust off our travel costumes and share our performance.  Jefe put on a magic show and juggling routine, Kelly spiced up the night with a hula-hoop performance, and we showed off our partner acrobatics skills as the big finale.  We were touched to learn that Hector wished for a clown at his party, but his mother told him they couldn’t afford it.  Luckily, we met Vitalina while volunteering at her child center that morning, and offered to clown around that evening as our pleasure.  We lead dancing games in a circle and offered face-painting.  It was a heart-warming success, and we plan to perform another show tomorrow for the grand opening of a childcare project in the shanty-town of El Molino. 

 
This experience is proving to be just like our transformative Burning Man trip: opportunities are what you make of them as you creatively realize that anything is possible with imagination and ingenuity.  We hope that you too will be inspired to activate your skills and join forces with Burners Without Borders on the continuation of the Pisco Sin Fronteras reconstruction project.  

Part I

Hopping off the bus in Tunuyan, Argentina we were approached by an ebullient older man soliciting his camping grounds.  Shifting back into “no gracias” tourist mode (a survival mechanism developed in reaction to the barrage of solicitations we experienced in Peru), we politely declined his flyer, explaining that we were headed to a Buddhist Monastery as volunteers.  We watched as he sent his wife and daughter off on a bus (his real intention for being at the bus station), and 5 minutes later we found ourselves making the long dirt road journey to the Monastery in his jeep.  During the drive we learned about Eric’s epic years as a hippie, floating the Amazon for a year in a handcrafted raft with his monkey, finagling his way to the United States, painting SkyScrapers on scaffoldings in Miami, and working his way from rags to riches with his kayak business that fell apart after 9/11, and his return to Argentina 25 years later.

When we approached the foreboding red gate with “Prohibido Pasar” sloppily spray-painted on it, we weren’t sure if we were arriving at the monastery or a prison camp. 

We found the farm on World Organization of Organic Farmers’ website, and were given the impression that is was a fully-functioning monastery where we would rehabilitate a garden, patch up an old adobe house for volunteers, and receive Buddhist teachings.  Instead, we learned that although the project was started 12 years ago, nothing has been accomplished on the land, save for a few leaf huts built under trees within the past month.  Keeping a positive attitude, we were ready to help initiate progress.  Hoping to work alongside a host of Buddhist Monks, we were surprised that only one Buddhist Nun was running the project.  Over the next few days, she was about to teach us lessons on leadership, negative thinking, and the nature of wisdom—but not in the way we would have expected. 

Our first and only meditation was conducted in a 4-person tent, hunched in a crowded circle as the nun drilled the veteran volunteers on the proper meditation positions.  We were safe from the swarms of mosquitoes and flies, but were bugged by the disposition of our new teacher.

We arrived the day the main volunteer threw in the towel and stormed off the property, giving us a foreshadowing “Good Luck”. We began work on building a roof for the crumbling house on the edge of the property, supposedly infested with killer cockroaches. As Kelly splattered a horse manure concoction to seal the cockroach crevices, Jefe discovered he was re-constructing a roof that had just been torn down by the previous volunteers.  When we approached the nun on the matter, she gave excuses ranging from blaming machismo men to the need to release bad energy out of the house.  Walking the land, we witnessed the bones of abandoned projects, and began to notice a pattern. 

Apparently, her leadership has been marked by jumping from one intention to the next, and often having to be coached by the volunteers to cheer up and stop being so negative. Disgruntled by why no progress has been made on the monastery, she makes the long trek into town daily, believing she has plentiful support from the government and goes requesting favors from delegates and others in town. When Jefe escorted her into town one day, we learned why no support ever comes to fruition; she told the man who is donating all the wood for the roof that he has bad Karma.  How many others has she turned away? She blames the volunteers for why so little progress has been made on the monastery, but it seems more like it is her approach.

We were berated for being young, and ipso facto, unwise.  She challenged our lack of discipline, made assumptions about our karma, and became very irritable and unkind. We learned that many volunteers have been pushed away by her attitude, and we were torn: part of us wanted to stick it out and honor our intention to complete a two week stay, and the other impulse was to move on to where our energy would be more appreciated and respected.  By this time, all the other volunteers except one had left.

Our last night there was clinched by a guided semi-meditation with the instruction to work harder on her adobe house for the happiness of all sentient beings.  We left the next morning with our blessings to her and the monastery, and enjoyed a long walk into town to reflect on what had transpired.  We were accompanied by the jolliest of Australians—Mark and Dylan, with whom we shared enthusiasm for the spirit of our travels, and pointed them in the direction of Yacu Yura, to make the most of their last week in Argentina.  We hitched a ride in the back of an old truck that saved us an hour’s hike, then loitered around a gas station to regroup…soon we would cross paths with great teachers that didn’t wear the clothing of a monk, but reminded us of the profound wisdom within us all when we least expected it.


Part II

We decided to make a visit to our friend Eric, who gave us a ride to the Monastery five days before.  The trouble was finding a cheap taxi out there—even the truchos (unofficial cabs) were expensive.  In a moment of spontaneity, we salsa danced in the gas station—attracting the interest of Mario, a sausage salesman who once taught salsa classes in Canada, who offered to take us out there. We crammed our backpacks in his tiny car between buckets of sausages. We hit the road and Mario commenced his beautiful lecture on compassion, consciousness, and other spiritual sustenance.  I was holding back tears—in wonder of how we receive what we are seeking in the most unlikely arenas; here, the smelly swine mobile with a hyper grandpa who swerved along the road while simultaneously showing us magic tricks.  We stopped for directions a dozen times along the way, drove nearly 50 km in the wrong direction, but were constantly amused by his playful and provocative comments, “I’m not God you know, but really…I am God.”

When we arrived at Don Venancio camping grounds, Mario passed the torch to Eric to continue enlightening us eager travelers.  The environment here couldn’t be more ideal. We are at the foot of the Andes enjoying perfect weather, staying as a guest in one of the cabins, and surrounded by fruit/nut trees as well as a variety of animals.  The llamas amuse us with their bourgeois demeanors, the horse and donkey have a baby mule, and Uno, the dog, awaits our attention on the couch outside of our cabin each day. 

Our days have been spent hiking the Andes, preparing an application for a grant from Earth Island Institute, fixing the antenna so our tiny camping village could watch the big soccer game, performing our circus skills for lively families (we made 15 dollars in tips!), and drinking fresh carrot juice while we learn something new and intriguing about Eric’s life.   We enjoy pearls of wisdom from our new friend who has been so generous to us.  He relates his experience on this land as being enslaved in a fairy tale.  Although tending to so much land is quite an endeavor, he cares for the land with passion and mindfulness. Each day the land, the trees, the water communicates to him what needs to be done for it to thrive.  Trees are wilted and speak to him, water me. By having a close relationship with the environment, it tells him the solutions. This approach, paying attention to the land and carrying for it with passion, is generating abundance larger than can be realized at this time.

While we are calculating our next move, mostly we’re just taking advantage of this time to anchor and accomplish some goals.  We are eating quite healthily, and are gifted with an abundance of moments to focus on the things most important to us.  Sending love and light to all those back home.  

If you are ever in the Mendoza, Argentina area, visit Eric's beautiful camping site and cabins: http://www.campingdonvenancio.com.ar/

Kelly y Jefe


We are in Mendoza Region of Argentina: 

A week and a half after arriving in San Juan, we still have yet to explore the city.  Just after arrival we jumped in Francisco’s massive tourist van, filled with more than 1,000 pounds of supplies, soda, food, and a hot water heater positioned like a missile engaged behind Jefe’s head. He was forced into a crouching position for the two-hour drive to Huaco.  Huaco, which Francisco claims will be the next Argentinean tourist destination (that is once they pave the road), is the farthest off the beaten path we’ve ever been.  It consists of a couple dozen houses, two restaurants/canned food stores, no fresh food markets in a two- hour radius, and now his brand new hostel.  

Here we explored the untouched landscape, impressive rock formations, dried river beds where water had carved smooth waves in the red sand stone, while never running into another conscious life form. We did find a dried up frog and invested some time and energy into making a funny little shrine. Later we took a mud bath (slinging handfuls at one another) and swam in the thermal springs between a canyon. 

Once back in San Juan we sprawled out on the floor and focused all our energy into editing the Yacu Yura film.   After Kelly was turned down for trying to buy dried fingernails (Unas Secas) Jefe succeed in buying a kilo of raisins (Uvas Secas). With that many raisins on hand, we knew of the perfect solution to break up the many hours sitting in front of the computer screen. Oatmeal cookies!  After sifting six bugs, and one worm out of the oats and still overpowered by sugar gluttony, we produced four batches of cookies that were consumed entirely within twelve hours. 

Now finished with the film we are heading to Mendoza, Argentina to volunteer at a Buddhist Monastery.

We owe many thanks to Francisco and Elizabeth in San Juan, Argentina.  We feel completely blessed by their genuine hospitality in offering us a homebase to work on the film for the past week. Visit Francisco’s hostel:  http://www.triasicohostel.com.ar/

Also many thanks to Keveen Gabet for the French translation and inspiration.    We strongly encourage you to learn more about Keveen and his global projects inspiring people to Spread Their Love: http://keveen-korakor.blogspot.com/ 

Currently he is establishing a free English school for the community of Chichicapam, Mexico.  Learn more about the school and sponsor a child/senior citizen at: http://korakoradventures.blogspot.com/

Please send us any feed back, thoughts, or feelings you have about the film.  We are always curious and receptive to what our viewers think to help make our films more dynamic.

 Gracias amigos! 

Where we are: 

"On this path we will stumble, fall, and often look and feel a little foolish.  We are confronting long-standing patterns of thought and action.  Compassion for ourselves, perspective, humor...these are our allies.  With their help, we can come to see, in the words of the Bhagavad Gita, that 'no step is lost on this path...and even a little progress is freedom from fear.'  The reward, the real grace, of conscious service, then, is the opportunity not only to help relieve suffering but to grow in wisdom, experience greater unity, and have a good time while we're doing it." Ram Dass  How Can I Help?


After Copacabana we spent one night in La Paz sleeping in a cheap hostel on the Witches Ally.  Carrying our heavy packs up the busy street lined with tienda after tienda of natural cure-alls, herbal viagra, and hung-dried baby llamas at every door, our curiosity was not strong enough to enter past the sight nor the smell.  At this point we were becoming anxious about our financial situation and had decided to cut our expenditures considerably.  We found one hostel that was 5 dollars each but we weren’t willing to pay the price.  So we hiked another 20 minutes, sweating and grunting uphill to save 50 cents.  During supper we limited ourselves to sharing a meal, later to be humbled that it was really only 3 dollars, and we needed to chill out, stop worrying, and be less stingy.   From then on we budgeted ourselves to spend 6 dollars total whenever we decide to eat out.  We almost never ate out due to the limited options of bread, fried bread, or fried chicken.  After passing through small towns, subsisting on the bread diet a couple days, popping Imodium like candy, two nightmare-ish night buses on a dirt road, seven hours of which were in the wrong direction, we arrived in the tiny town of Uyuni. 

Here exist the largest salt flats in the world.  We cannot tell you much about them because our guide was less than enthusiastic about giving us information.  When asked, “How old is it?” he replied “Oh, very old.”  How deep is it? “Oh, very deep.”  What we do know: it’s phenomenal.  It is a vast desert of salt, the sheer size is an anomaly in which one can see nothing but salt in every direction as white as snow, but as hot as an oven.  Occasionally there will be an island of gigantic cactuses; from afar they look like a mirage, or a gigantic fish hovering over the landscape.  We spent the day exploring, getting sunburned and dried to the bone, digging for our own salt crystals, and taking advantage of the surreal landscape for circus shots.

We stopped in Cochabamba with the intention of finding a volunteer opportunity.  There we saw destitution, hardship, and a level of poverty that we had not yet experienced in South America.  Walking the streets to find a hostel at night, it seemed that eight out of every ten people were high on glue.  We passed by many people sniffing it without discretion.  It seemed a problem so prevalent no one could do anything about it, or cared.  When we inquired about the price of a hostel, even the receptionist was high and could barely speak to us.  We had heard that this was common for street children, because it decreases hunger, but we didn’t expect it to be this transparent.  Passing crying children with their begging mothers high on glue broke my heart; to see how individuals and generations become trapped by poverty.  How can one escape when these are the conditions one is born into?  How can one be educated when their life situation forces them to spend days looking for food rather than attending school?  I wish I had explored these questions more during our short stay in Bolivia.

When we found an Internet café to search for service organizations, we received an invitation from Yacu Yura eco-village to come experience their project and participate in a week-long workshop for Healing Arts.   Feeling very insecure, unsafe, and unsure for the first time on our trip, we decided to follow this invitation and our intuition and headed to Argentina. 

We spent 2 weeks at Yacu Yura, located near Cordoba.  Here there has been a roller coaster of emotional energy with people coming and passing, surviving from the land and harnessing it’s power.  We experienced pure compassion from the people here.  For a week we fetched our water from the stream because a storm damaged the pipes, destroyed the bridge and the road. While Jefe exuded his energy in manual labor, digging up rocks to repair the road and scooping mud to repair the creek canal; Kelly slaved away in the kitchen with a wood fired stove and cleaning dishes with hand fetched creek water.  We acknowledged that we have sunk into traditional roles, and were humbled by the realization that we are okay with that.   We lived with no electricity nor concept of time, harnessing the energy of the sun by rising and setting at the same time it does.  Bathing ourselves in the spring water with homemade biodegradable soap, and using composting toilets to “give our sh*t back to the earth as the most fertile gift” (as explained by a very enthusiastic permaculturist who came to host a workshop).

There was a wide array of diversity amongst the people. Luckily Jimi, who set up the project with Gabi, could keep everyone on top of it by speaking French to Esterella and Alex, who only spoke French, English to Kelly and Ana Mia (from Denmark), and Spanish to all the others ranging from 3 to 30 people on some days.  We participated in workshops on Non-Violent communication, Integral Theory, Permaculture, Music Therapy, Heart Sharing, Illuminated Partnerships, Kundalini Yoga, Singing and Dancing Prayers for Universal Peace, teaching an Acro-Yoga workshop, and a 24 hour vision quest of fasting while spending a night alone in the woods tending to ones own fire and bathing in the stream for purification—the hours were filled with transformation.  (A film should be up soon!)

  The weeks opened the doors to our own imaginations and the feasibility of pursuing our paths more fully, with more heart, determination, and clarity from a place of integrity and virtue.   We feel that the depth of our project is hindered by our inability to communicate our fullest expression (Spanish as a second language).  We realize that traveling in South America has aligned us with a clear vision and the best place for it to blossom is in the United States.  

Once we return, we are determined not only continue Gaian Path in the United States, but to pursue our masters in Integral Theory/Holistic Studies; and in some time, potentially begin a center for conscious transformation, sustainability, and healing.  Integral Theory is the synthesis of psychology, ecology, and spiritual studies introduced by Dr. Ken Wilber who lives in Denver, Colorado.  To learn more, visit the integral Institute site: www.IntegralLife.com.  While Jefe has this emphasis in sight (as well as an interest for the Transformative Arts program), Kelly is investigating a master’s program in holistic health education.  John F. Kennedy University in the Bay Area seems like the place for us to simultaneously pursue these studies.  While lots of ideas about the future inhabit our experience, we are focusing on staying present day-to-day. 

On our day of departure from Yacu Yura to Buenos Aires, a couple from the workshop, Francisco and Elizabeth, (who have also recently abandoned their old lives in search of meaning and adventure, too!) invited us to come be their guests in a hostel Francisco owns in San Juan.  Now avid acro-yogis, we are giving lessons in exchange for accommodations. Within five minutes we changed our plans, took off on the road, not even knowing which direction San Juan is on the map!   Re-acclimated to electricity, running water, and loud street corners, Jefe looked in the mirror for the first time in two weeks to see what a grizzly bear he has turned into.   GROWL!  

Firstly, we would like to thank all of the benevolent people who have sent us donations.  We are completely blessed to be able to do this and that there are people supporting us the entire way.  Thank you!

We showed up in Pisaq, Peru with the intention of pitching our tent in the front yard of some people we had met a week prior.  With the most abundant hospitality, Jen from South Africa, and Eric from Canada invited us to spend the holidays camped out in the front of their fireplace.  For days we shared stories, laughs, bubbles, movies, songs, and great collaborative meals.  We woke up on Christmas with little stockings from Santa and a miracle right outside our window.  The most precious and simple expression of the love that exists, even between species: a pig and a cow were cuddling.  The pig must have been seeking comfort, knowing his time was near. The next day, and subsequent days after, the pig was missing.  It broke my heart that this being, filled with compassion equivalent to human beings, ended up on the dinner table for some arbitrary feast.   Had the owners seen this pig and cow comforting one another, maybe they would have reconsidered sacrificing him for the satisfaction of their palette.  Maybe they could have identified with him and respected his right to life.   ***We have been informed that the pig made a miraculous reappearance since our departure. Hooray!

Spending a couple of weeks in the Sacred Valley, we realized that respect and compassion for one another, humans, and all of Earth’s creations is a perspective to life here.  (At least with the spiritual community we have been blessed to stay with).  This community has congregated here from all over the world, Hawaii, Canada, California, South Africa, Ireland, Peru, etc., because it has the highest concentration of Kundalini energy in the world.  They have created a haven of spirituality and sustainability; a type of community that is conscious and gives back to the Earth that which it takes.  Here there is open communication, deep self-exploration, and support for one another and the land in a dynamic feedback loop.  Sanan, from California is designing a fully functioning ecological village here. The project is called Shambhala Peru. (http://shambhalaperu.blogspot.com/)  There are so many passionate people operating from a place of compassion. 

Compassion is organizing projects that benefit the greater community.  Diego and Milagros, a shaman and a lawyer, host a party for 60 village children every year the day after Christmas.  Every attendee receives food, cake, games, activities, and gifts.  We gladly lent our circus skills and magic tricks for entertainment.

Compassion is extending your concept of family to include all fellow human beings, especially those that need love the most.   Maria, Mama Kia, and Allen established an orphanage (Casa de Milagros) ten years ago in the Sacred Valley after their son passed away. Rather than letting the pain destroy them, they turned it into something beautiful. Now they take care of thirty-one children from birth to college to ensure that they feel a part of a family and develop wholly.   In this home the children have a dynamic family structure where they play, learn responsibility, have music lessons, work in the organic garden, take care of the horses and other animals, explore their own spiritual path, and have a breath-taking place to do it all.   They even make decisions as a democracy and decided that if two individuals are fighting their punishment is to eat off of the same plate for four meals!

After we made a film for Casa de Milagros we returned to Pisaq to celebrate the New Year with our friends.  We met Felix who had memorized the prophet, and filmed him reciting a few of the poems in the woods.  That night we enjoyed a potluck and a big YUUUUUUUUUUUUM like OM prior to chowing down.  Kelly was gifted a tarot deck by a wonderful woman named Jen (from Austin!), and has since been reading everyone’s future.  Last night we gave a reading to an 8 year old Bolivian whose message was to continue to work hard with determination and she will excel in her dreams. When asked what her dreams are, she replied, to help her family.  It is amazing, the sense of responsibility children have to their families here compared with children in the United States.  My parents had a hard enough time trying to get me to make my bed and here this 8 year old is serving my food and bringing me change.

            On the border of Bolivia we explored the Uros, floating islands made from Reeds in Lake Titicaca. We entered on boat and had to suppress our immature giggles every time our guide exclaimed Titi KaKa.  There are a few dozen islands, each about 200 feet in diameter.  Women and men in neon colored traditional outfits line the edges waving to greet visitors.   As hesitant as I am about organized tours, this one, hands down, was phenomenal.  The islanders nailed the art of satisfying tourists from putting together mini models to show how the island is constructed, to dressing us in traditional outfits, and to singing Row Row Row your boat in 6 different languages as we floated away on a reed raft.   As detrimental as the tourism industry can be to local economies, this particular culture would have died without tourism. Prior, life on these islands was sustained through catching miniature fish and bartering.  With the influence of cities and monetary demand they risked having to abandon their livelihood in order to survive because there is no way to generate money on the island.   We decided to support their culture by buying a weaving from Julia, who invited us into her reed home and who turned out to be the wife of the President of the island (of 5 families).  Later her son-in-law expressed to us sincere gratitude for buying her art because the money enables the children to go to school.  Now through the support from tourism they are able to continue living their culture while sharing it.

We are scouting out our next opportunity, and it looks like we may be working with a wildlife refuge within the next couple days.  Both blessed with the ability to connect instantly with animals, we are excited to use our talents to support the care of monkeys/pumas as they transition back into the wild.  Everyday we meet a new furry friend—donkeys, monkeys, dogs, cats, rabbits, goats, and sheep—and exchange love.  Animals are on this Earth for a special purpose (not as our food), to teach us unconditional love…life is so simple when we remember the things we really need.  We can learn a lot from these benevolent creatures. 

Happy New Year everybody! 

Walk the path of loving others as yourself.

Kelly y Jefe

As the weeks have progressed, so has our Spanish and knack for making new Peruano friends.  The sun rises early and the smells of freshly baked pan (bread) and emoliente (tea) fragrant our morning walks to school.  Cristo, a friendly Coca chocolate and tea shop owner lets us peruse his library of books on Shamanism, intention, and other interesting topics.  Quechuan speaking indigenous women line the streets offering beautiful hand woven belts for 15 soles (5 dollars), and lessons on how to weave their culturally significant patterns.  A new friend, Mariano, intends to create a circus school next year in Cusco. 

Our Musico friends, Alberto and Ronald took us on a night trek to the Temple of the Moon and other ruins.  The moon illuminated our arduous hike through steep mud trails and rocky drop-offs.  Also along on the journey were our friends Abbi and Ashley, Chino (who coined me Peter Pan Cowboy Dreamer), Chino’s French girlfriend, and a Frenchman who cared more for his cigarettes than making conversation. 

Some feel that spending the night in the mountains to watch the sunrise is peligroso (dangerous), but we were in good hands with our friends, and the bone-chilling cold was worth the experience of the sunrise with a 360 degree view of lush beauty, Mountains, the city in the distance, and rolling hills carved in places for terraced farming.  We kept warm over night with a small fire fueled entirely on wet branches that had fallen and taking turns huffing and puffing to reignite the flame.  We were astonished how our Peruano friends tuned into the subtlety of keeping the fire of soaked leaves and limbs going, and were so grateful to learn this survival skill. 

We are leaving for Machu Picchu in a couple days, and have moved from one room in our apartment to another (no longer plagued by 7 leaks in the ceiling, hoorah!).  We rented a room in an apartment for 300 soles (100 American dollars) for the month.  We hope to spend Christmas volunteering and enjoying the company of one of our friends’ families, but we will be carrying all of you in our hearts as we celebrate Navidad.