solution's blog

Discussing the economy in Portugal with Antonio Saores from

We have this wonderful gift on our property in the Dominican Republic...two streams by our house. The one is to the north, the other to the west.

We have this wonderful gift on our property in the Dominican Republic...two streams by our house. The one is to the north, the other to the west.

From time to time we stumble across somethings interesting. This is a TED Talk we really like...

This is an 8 minute experience of going up the Orinoco River Delta in Venezuela. We hear stories of how dangerous Venezuela is. Our experiences were completely the opposite. This has been one of the best adventures of our entire 5 years sailing the Caribbean...

We have returned to the Islands and have traveled to Trinidad to refit our boat, then had a trip to the Orinoco River Delta in Venezuela. Here is a video of Darlene doing yoga on the river.

I will be posting about this soon, but here is the video of the border crossing...

An Argentinean couple in there early twenties we met in the town square, led us to find accommodation where they were staying for A$50R that was very comfortable and the guy who rented to us just a wonderful and colorful character. If we were able to speak on a common platform, we would have had great conversation and laughter. In the morning was Darlene’s quest for her morning cup of Java. We walked all over the town looking for it. It was elusive. We went to the restaurant where we had dinner and the door was open. When the last patron left, the staff must have followed them right out. The empty glasses and bottles of wine were where we had left them. No coffee was to be found.
We headed to the town square where the vendors were colorfully displaying their wares. The creviced faces of the old Inca descendants, with jet black hair under the gaucho hat, short hard working people dressed colorfully in Llama. They were quiet, passive salespeople, welcoming but no English.
So Darlene looked around for a tourist and spotted two and asked if they spoke English. That is how we met Annalisa from Stockholm, a middle aged woman traveling by her self who spoke no to limited Spanish. She had on a green head scarf wrapped almost as Laurence of Arabia, and green matching sunglasses. With here was an Italian friend married to an Argentinean, who spoke fluent Spanish. They too were on the Java hunt and we teamed up. Annalisa is an actress and singer. She has done Swedish stage performances, including musicals, television and some film. She hasd a 40 year old whom she described as the Old Testament and herself the New Testament. Strong relationships were elusive and she so loved Darlene and my story, bringing tears to her eyes many times. Emotional was the only way to describe her...in the most beautiful way. The world would be a better place if people could learn from Annalisa. No wonder she is a brilliant actress. How can you not be when so in touch with ones soul, and how can one touch another soul if one does not know one's own. She is looking for her “Capitan”, someone to explore the world with, to be her North Star. She had been in Buenos Aries for five weeks exploring theater opportunities and was on here last few days. We headed off to an elegant 2 hour lunch that could have been our home as it was light filled, earthen feel with huge window sills and windows that opened outward the way Darlene has always dreamed of. It was over lunch that Darlene and I returned to the question of where in the world we want to live. We know it will not be America forever. We are not the city type; do not need the vast stimulations of cell phones, television and traffic. We want the indoor, outdoor living with the open expanse of space. It needs to be a climate where I can garden and inspiring towards alternative construction. Maybe we will build a straw / adobe house. We will have solar power, and bring nature in to nurture our souls and be a home that welcomes and stimulates conversation and the spirit of mankind. We had ruled South Africa out for many personal reasons and its geographic isolation. Italy was appealing but not the prices and then there are the language barriers. Once more with Annalisa’s flamboyance, we visited the question of where and when.
The conversations continued back to her hotel in Tilcara, some 35 km away, for a swim and lounging and more laughter and tears of joy. There was WiFi and e-mails awaiting our attention. One deal had gone down the tubes with the economy that was a done deal. Then there was Cuba. We were being invited back to address not only the military leadership but the rank and files. They were being volun-told. Sitting at the swimming pool, watching the moon rise from behind the mountains and looking across the valley with Gauchos riding a few hundred feet away in a place that has not been touch by time, I used technology to secure the deal 7,000 miles away.
The Darlene and I bid Annalisa farewell who had given Darlene many gifts to lighten her bags, and I had told her that if she wanted to go sailing with her “Capitan” she would need to shed the physical bags. She was an airlines nightmare with all her luggage, and was proud of traveling in the finest comfort. We had made a new friend and put Sweden on our map as a place to visit because of Annalisa, the actress as we drove north to Humahuaca.
Humahuaca was different in ways I have difficulty describing. It is not as touristic as Purmamarca, but yet it is a destination. It spreads more distance and does not have the imposing peaks and mountain colors, was relatively flat nestled between the highway and the Rio Grande. We stayed at the La Hostel Sonada with the physically huge and even bigger hearted Patricia for A$110R including breakfast. Quiet pink rooms with a courtyard, pink again and very pleasant. The next morning we did our ritual walking around town, window shopping, talking to vendors from whom Darlene bought a necklace, then left heading for Yavi via Laguana Portezuelo, but the day had gotten away and we decided to remain on Route 9 for La Quiaca on the Bolivian border and the 17 km ride to the east to Yavi where we arrived early afternoon.
Time had stood still, or better yet, time had not arrived in this sleepy town. No one was around. The dogs slept in the middle of the dusty, barren main street, annoyed that someone had the audacity to drive that day into their domain. We were up in the mountain plains and the river ran breaking the desert terrain with just enough green to offer contrast and maybe a blade of grass for a few cows. There were very few places to stay. We chose the hostel right as you come into town for A$80R that offered great double rooms. Water for the shower was heated by wood. Yavi was cold, especially when the sun went down. A radiant heater made or nest on a sold adobe bed comfortable.
After choosing our bed for the night, Darlene and I decided to have a picnic. There was an area that said camping and we saw nice trees and tables that were inviting. We had bought stuff from fruits, cheese, drinks and a table cloth, just for such a moment. Some folks had a fire going and the smells were most inviting. We set up and enjoyed the ambiance. In the shade it was quite chilly but in the sun very pleasant. Fall had truly arrived with the changing of the leaves and colors.
After we had finished, I went over to the tap to wash our two utensils and my hands and five people having a braai as South Africans say, or a barbecue, invited me over. They wanted to know where we were from as it was obvious we were not local. They were Bolivians. Immediately we were offered meat and to join them. No Spanish and no English, but plenty of gestures and words and we were figuring things out. The meat was so delicious, the best I have eaten in the country. It took a lot of explaining that Darlene is vegetarian, but they figured it out. We spent a good half hour chatting and eating. This was our high light of the day. They made my day and I hope enjoyed our company.

April 30, 2009
We left Salta in a rental car after only arriving the previous day on the bus from BA. Salta was just another big South American city minus the sky scrapers and huge apartment blocks, that did not call out to us. Santiago suggested that drive to San Antonio on Route 51 through the mountains. It was a spectacular drive through many small towns. The out skirts of Salta after the airport had interesting homes and a restaurant we would have eaten in if we were hungry already. We did come to one fork in the dirt road by a river that I was not sure of so we pulled over and shortly a police vehicle arrived, pointing us to take the road to the right and up the hill. Soon we saw the disused rail road on the opposite side of the river. At times when that river was in full flow, it would be spectacular and devastating. The vegetation changed several times, colorful soil giving way to rocky terrain with countless cactus standing like soldiers, then after a while, none. The road was pretty good, but very dusty and in places bumpy. We transverse at around 60 km an hour and sometimes would drop to 40 km/hr but that was not too often. I over took one car and had one other come the opposite direction. Here and there were a few settlements but not much else.
After about an hour we stopped to take a photo and spotted a settlement with a few sheep. The Sheppard wondered over and we tried to communicate. He pointed to the mountain, spoke many Spanish words of which we could make out nothing. After a few minutes, he gave up and we continued on our way. Some 30 km later we came to more modern settlement. There was a policeman stopping “traffic”. He wanted to see the car papers and our passports and waved us on our way. About another 20 km later, the only traffic we passed were two military trucks with soldiers going the opposite way and a lorry struggling, we climbed a steep mountain. The views were indescribable. Snow covered peak set against a brilliant blue sky. Mountains of various color gradations with ever changing desert vegetation. A settlement that could be hundreds of years old, with a solar panel. Then suddenly, there was a hitch hiker, a woman with a bag adamant that I stop. Of course she spoke no English and was trying to tell me something. I figured out the word two, but nothing else. At first I thought she wanted two pesos. But that made no sense. Then I showed her the hitch hiking sign as I remember that was what she was doing when I first spotted her, and she acknowledged it but kept saying two, till I figured out that there were two persons hitching a ride and wanted to go to San Antonio.
It was at first a bit of a pain having two passengers as we had to clean up the back seat. I got a dirty look from Darlene, but her humanitarian side quickly emerged. The other woman appeared from a shack on the opposite slope, came running carrying a big bag. There was no room in the trunk for their bags, but we got the back seat re-arranged so that they could get their bags in and be comfortable. And an adventure was about to unfold that was unknown to us.
About a half hour later the older woman showed us a woven Andean weave. It was beautiful but had little interest to us as all we could think of was what room we had in our backpacks. Then she showed us another, and another, trying to tell us something in Spanish. Then Darlene asked about a sweater, and low and behold, we had a traveling market in the back seat. They had alpaca after alpaca sweater, scarves, vests and even some kids’ sweaters. They had all kinds of designs and colors and soon Darlene’s lap was covered and she was stacking some on the dashboard that grabbed her eye, and they still had more to show us. We wanted something for Shelby, but what we had in mind they did not have in their bag, but explained at the cassa was more. So we took them home, to their cassa where they had so much more to show us. In the process they learned that we were heading to Purmamarca and could they come.
San Antonio was a desolate, barren place of Adobe houses and more dusty streets. After buying a Alpaca sweater each, two scarves and something for Shelby for A$R200 (we got a A$R40 discount for giving them the ride), we were hungry and wanted to find food. I was so hungry I was getting light headed. They knew of a restaurant in town. On our way to it, the younger woman with a pretty round Andean face, pulled out a cell phone and made a call. Here we were where the most modern things were a car, solar panels and a TV, they had cell coverage. Take all this away and we were back 200 years into history.
The first restaurant was closed, but there was a second and Darlene was able to have chicken and I a piece of meat, with French fries. Then off we were on the adventure on a road not many cars transverse. It was a tough road and at best I could do 30km/hr. After a while, glad we had the two locals with us as we may have feared being lost, the one woman told me to go left onto a dirt track. This was strange. Leaving the main bumpy road for a track that should have a 4*4 on it, not a minute rental car? And not knowing why. The city mind was were they taking us somewhere where they were going to rob us? If so, they could have done that anywhere in the last two hours. Were we being fooled and we were taking them to some other place they wanted to go, but not us? But human kindness must always prevail and our belief in trusting. That dirt track ran parallel to the bad road and was a better ride. We took it for some 25 minutes till it got bad and the woman pointed me back to the main road.

Slowly the hours passed and some how we all managed to communicate in sign language and saying words over and over till some how they made sense. We saw Llamas with ribbons and colored ears, many donkeys and then some other animals that they got very excited about, Vicuna. They were wild and we think gave some of the best wool. The dusty road was bad, very bad, but passable. It was route 40 to Salinas Grande. We were driving on some kind of a plain with mountains either side off in the distance. We passed one car, and about 10 miles away to the west I saw the dust of another car heading towards those mountains. We were maybe 40 miles from those western mountains and maybe 15 miles east of another. This was the vast ocean equivalent of nothingness. Then came the sight of Salinas Grande maybe 20 miles away. We could see the shimmering whiteness of the salt flats, once a lake, now gone. We got closer and closer, but never to it. We skirted it on this dusty, attention demanding, rutted dirt road. And then it ended on a tar road and we made a left turn to go see the salt flats of Salinas Grande, away from our destination, but only 15 km out of our way.
Salinas Grande was something. We drove off the high way onto the salt. It was a better ride and intriguing. The salt had formed tiles about 6*8 feet. These tiles had ridges surrounding them. Darlene went prone to lick, one salt like that covered several hundred square miles. Salt was being scraped for commercial processing. We got our little bag of scrapings and photos with the two woman who told us to continue driving on the salt towards Chile. Some miles later we came to what looked like ice fisherman in the middle of a frozen lake. They were selling salt sculptures. We turned there for the main road and another structure…an entire building, with tables and chairs, built of salt, complete with chapel and sculptures of Llamas. What a sight.
We turned away from Chile and began our climb into the mountains. It was one of those snaking roads, doubling back so many times as we climbed, and then doing the reverse on the other side of the mountain. It was intense driving. On the opposite side the erosion calved by the winds looked like chocolate flakes, shape, jagged, ready to crumble at the slightest. Then we were arriving in Purmamarca and the two women were pushing on. We debated whether to push on to the town they were heading to, assuming that accommodations they would find would be cheaper, but Darlene was ready to get out of the car. We dropped them and bid them farewell, having spent a day communicating without a single common word. To us the mystery remains, where they planning to go to this destination at this time, or did we just happen to provide the opportunity at that moment and they seized the time? And the other big questions, was why were they heading there, hundreds of kilometers from home.