photo 4

a solitary laborer in the beautiful countryside outside vang vien, laos. the mountain peering out from the clouds at least arguably resembles a volcano, providing just the scintilla of excuse I need to quote from under the volcano.

And at the next moment, though not before there passed between himself and the doctor a barely perceptible exchange of signals, a tiny symbolic mouthward flick of the wrist on the Consul's side as he glanced up at his bungalow, and upon Vigil's a slight flapping movement of the arms extended apparently in the act of stretching, which meant (in the obscure language known only to major adepts in the Great Brotherhood of Alcohol), "Come up and have a spot when you've finished," "I shouldn't for if I do i shall be 'flying,' but on second thoughts perhaps I will" - it seemed he was back drinking from his bottle of tequila. And, the moment after, that he was drifting slowly and powerfully through the sunlight back toward the bungalow itself. Accompanied by Mr. Quincey's cat, who was following an insect of some sort along his path, the Consul floated in an amber glow. Beyond the house, where now the problems awaiting him seemed already on the point of energetic solution, the day before him stretched out like illimitable rolling wonderful desert in which one was going, though in a delightful way, to be lost: lost, but not so completely he would be unable to find the few necessary waterholes, or the scattered tequila oases where witty legionnaires of damnation who couldn't understand a word he said, would wave him on, replenished, into that glorious Parian wilderness where man never went thirsty, and where now he was drawn on beautifully by the dissolving mirages past the skeletons like frozen wire and the wandering dreaming lions towards ineluctable personal disaster, always in a delightful way of course; the disaster might even be found at the end to contain a certain element of triumph.

foto de la semana 3

it seems that a hectic schedule of pouring bourbon down my throat and staying up late to watch men's indoor volleyball in an effort to escape the harsh realities of the world are going to prevent me from taking post-worthy pictures every week. consequently, this is going to become a semi-monthly feature now (i would say bi-monthly so as to give me the flexibility of posting once every two weeks or once every two months, look it up people, but i think that would just be too confusing, not to mention the easy way out). new (at least new to you) pics will be forthcoming on the first and fifteenth of every month, so come celebrate payday with me. until then, here it is. we are closing out summer soon (how the hell did that happen) and this is nice representation of the oncoming end of a good thing. if you don't wish you were there, man you're someplace sweet.

aguas con los cenotes

Akumal is a small, once-sleepy, and still beautiful seaside town with multiple bays that shape and contort the southern part of the Yucatan Pennisnula, Mexico. Akumal means “place of turtles” in the ancient Mayan language. Cleverly named as such because its beaches are the primary nesting zones for both the Caretta caretta (loggerhead sea turtles) and Chelonia mydas (green turtles), this divinely picturesque area cares for not only these cute li’l green guys scurrying around in oversized shells, but is also home to some of the most gorgeous and awe-inspiring feats of nature’s creation that these eyes have seen, to wit: an enormous and vibrant reef with all the brightly colored fishies and scuba-tourist dollars that followed (this is why you’ve heard of Cozumel), a dense and lush mangrove (this is the sub-tropical swamp version of a rainforest), and perhaps most amazingly, the cenotes. Cenotes are essentially a product of an intricate system of underground rivers. They were “discovered” in this area only less than 30 years ago, and with their various stalagmites, stalactites, and various other insane rock formations and nooks and crannies, comprise the best cave and cavern diving on the planet. Only a fraction of this 500-mile maze of cenotes has even been explored, and though they provide endless fun to adventurers willing to strap oxygen tanks to their backs, fins to their feet and lights to their heads, they actually serve an even greater and broader social purpose (that is, when we consider society to consist of more than just human life, which of course, in the modern world, we do not). The mangroves provide the water and nutrients that are carried through the cenotes out to the sea and the reef, providing for the beautiful plant and marine life the reef supports.

Almost anything that’s good on this god-forsaken planet must be usurped for profit and exploitation and thus face extinction, and this wonderfully small and peaceful beauty remains no exception to the golden-green rule of mankind. The larger culprits are all-inclusive mega-resorts, with no thoughts but of money, catering to stupid and miserable western tourists, with no thoughts but of themselves, and in bed with local governments, with very little thought to speak of (think Eichmann in Jerusalem). Specifically here, the culprit here is the Bahia Gran Principe Hotel in Akumal. Yes, they are creating an artificial beach through the use of sascab and destroying the nesting area of the sea turtles, violating Mexican federal law by building over the federally protected mangroves, dumping their sewage into the sea and into the reef, and building an ungodly and sadistically called-for 27- hole golf course by the pampered and lazy (stupid and dumb and hate-filled also work) western extravagants, but these can be all read about in more detail in the following letter. Perhaps their truer crimes are keeping a donkey on staff to chug a beer at the demand of the aforesaid pampered (and stupid) tourists (it’s not as sweet as it sounds, though it is basically my life at this point, take a guess at what happens to a donkey that’s pounding beers all day), and staining a once-beautiful beach with hundreds of obnoxious fold out lounge chairs accompanied by the even worse sight of fat Spanish pot-bellies (sometimes Italians), who do little but get brutally sunburnt, smoke non-filters, drink shitty campari, and ogle my girlfriend all day. These people are the scum of the fucking earth and they are ruining one of the last xanadus left.

Please visit http://saverivieramaya.org/ to learn more about what is going on down there and how you can help. There is a multimedia section which includes many informative videos, including a volunteer picking up trash along a public beach being assaulted by Bahia Principe’s employees, a crab trapped due to the artificial beach created by the sascab, and a video of the beach itself being attacked. Here’s a little fly-over of the region and an intro into the problems.

And here’s a letter we’ve delivered to some corporate-backed US politician that details some of the major violations going on in Akumal. I urge you to take the time out of your busy days refreshing your email and visiting espn.con, pitchfork, perezhilton, and whatever else it is you do to keep the systems of oppression intact and growing strong (see, I don't know do anything, so i can say this while looking down my nose) to watch the videos and read the letter, and please think about and do something that will help either this area of the world, another, or the broader society and planet that we are live off and contribute to. We’re all in this together, people.

Dear Senator Schumer,

I am writing to you about a matter of serious environmental concern. The Quintana Roo coastline of the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico is currently experiencing an ecological crisis that threatens to permanently destroy its unique habitat and animal life. Though these activities are governed by Mexican Law, I hope that you, an influential US Senator with an impressive environmental record and a history of progressive advocacy, can help consolidate the support necessary to pressure the Mexican government to enforce its own laws and protect this land.

The chain of Gran Bahia Principe Hotels in Mexico is a prime culprit in this ongoing environmental destruction. Specifically, the Gran Bahia Principe Hotel in Akumal, Mexico has repeatedly engaged in acts violative of Mexican Federal Law, and continues to do so unabated. “Akumal” translates to “place of turtles” in Mayan Akumal’s beaches are the primary nesting zones of the Caretta caretta (loggerhead sea turtles) and Chelonia mydas (green turtles) – both are protected as endangered species under Mexican Federal law (NOM-059-SEMARNAT-2001). However, the Gran Bahia Principe is breaching this law by using a limestone-based material, sascab, to create artificial beaches on its nearby public shore. This material alters the habitat in a manner that prevents the sea turtles from nesting. The sascab kills coral and marine vegetation by impeding natural light through water. The US’s own National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has clearly stated that the loss and degradation of nesting areas caused by erosion, devouring, modification and artificial light is a serious problem attacking sea turtles and their hatchlings.

The Gran Bahia’s abuse of the land extends into the mangroves that are the lifeblood of one of the areas most spectacular physical attractions, the extensive coral reef. The mangroves in the area feed the reef through an intricate system of underground rivers, known as cenotes. These mangroves are protected by Mexican Federal Law, however, the Gran Bahia Principe has simply built over much of them. At various times, the hotel has dumped sewage into adjacent mangroves, killing the diverse plant and animal life. The hotel has also dumped sewage into the sea from its property, as well as placed geotubes in the ocean to break up waves and create an artificial beach. At least one of their geotubes has ruptured and was found entangled in and covering the coral reef.

Perhaps even more threatening to the area’s land is the Gran Bahia Principe’s current project to build a large 27-hole golf course above the Aktun Chen System. Aktun Chen is an intricate 500-mile system of underground, water-filled caves and caverns. These cenotes comprise some of the world’s best cave and cavern scuba diving, and only a fraction of these cenotes have been fully explored. Moreover, these underground rivers transport the food to the coral reef allowing it to thrive, and they provide the area with much of the local fresh water supply. However, the chemicals necessary to sustain the golf course, over five tons per year, will undoubtedly seep into the this river system and have potentially devastating and irreparable consequences for the cenotes, the reef, and the diverse plant and animal life that they support.

I understand that it is not the US Senate’s job to protect the land or laws of other sovereign nations. However, Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula, from Cancun to Playa del Carmen and Tulum, is a haven for American tourists and American investment. The Gran Bahia Principe Hotels advertise specifically to Americans. The demand and motivation for the golf-course’s construction in no small part comes from American, and consequently the Gran Bahia Principe Hotels feel the need to break a variety of Mexican laws. The flipside is that many future American tourists will not be able to enjoy the stunning natural beauty of the region if these activities continue. We are writing to you, Senator, for your support in our cause to save the Mayan Riviera. We ask that you put pressure on the President Felipe Calderon and the Mexican Government to enforce its own laws and protect its environment. You can learn more about our organization at http://www.saverivieramaya.org/. You can find more information about what we are trying to do to save this beautiful land, as well as photographic and video evidence of all of the various illegal actions committed by the Gran Bahia Principe Hotel discussed in this letter.

pasha's log: day 13

the penultimate day here in mexico brings a cornucopia of feeling: happy to get back to the comfy home turf of the apartment, excited to see the homeys at the dogpark, sad to leave the beach and sun behind, scared to go in the kennel again, tired just thinking about the long traveling day ahead. unfortunately mother nature did not bequeath me with a tongue slick enough to fully convey the turbulent swirls of emotions wisping through my li'l doggie head and heart. rather, i'll leave you with a sample of pictures from our beautiful time here. raddy says it's not the best set he's taken, but that there are a few that's he quite proud of, nonetheless. see if you can guess which ones they are.

pasha´s log: day 7

Saddle up boys and girls, Pashi here to take you on another wild ride through the on-goings, goings-ons, and all other happnins down here in the sandy peninsula that once saw Mayans live like kings, building all kinds of crazy big, right-angled pyramid structures and sacrificing fools at the top of ‘em. Kinda like the way Raddy and me are rollin’ right now. Ok, not exactly true, there’s not too much going on down here, but Raddy let me sip some mescals (smaller portions for me, mescalitos he says), so I’m a bit more rambling and florid in my writing style than normal (kinda like how Raddy usually writes but don’t tell him I said that, he’s real sensitive about that type of criticism). Another hot one down here, and por supuesto (I been working on mi espaňol, estoy pensando “cuando estas en Rome,” so I figure I’m basically at Raddy’s level now) some more real good walks on the beach too. I dug up a sand crab, got my paws wet in the water for a bit, chewed on some sticks, etc. I can’t complain, that’s for sure. Rommy’s basically gone insane with the cooking operation; she’s been devouring Mexican cookbooks and spending most of her time “experimenting,” as she calls it, with various local chilies. One time it was so crazy in the kitchen everyone’s eyes and noses got burnt just from the smells in the kitchen. Raddy’s been reading some depressing book about a British Consul wandering around Mexico drinking and complaining about his wife leaving him – he says, in typical overdramatic, hyperbolic Raddy fashion, “it’s one of the greatest works of our time,” but I’m pretty sure he just read someone say that in a New Yorker article and now spouts it off like uncontroverted gospel. In any case, he seems to enjoy reading it as he doesn’t reach for the TV remote after every page to find a hockey game, as he does back home. The cooking onslaught continued unabated as Rommy whipped up some evidently phantasmagoric pollo con salsa verde with all the fixings. I say “evidently” because I wasn’t able to have any, but judging by the sounds they made while eating it, and their inability to move afterwards, they enjoyed it much. Following the meal I witnessed the sobering and upsetting sight of Rommy soaking her hands in a bowl of milk to soothe the burning from the stains of hot peppers on her fingers, and Raddy painfully but determinedly taking down a bowl of ice cream slovenly lathered in nutella spread, all while they both watched with half glazed-over eyes and gaping mouths The American Office on TV (with Raddy screaming loudly, “this is so much worse than The British Office, and I don’t like that show either! And another thing about the British, they suck!”) I know everyone is supposed to be embarrassed by their parents, but I submit this as evidence in the contest for first place in that one. Ahhh, I am going to assume my position on the bed – on my back with all four paws in the air. Otro mescalito, por favor.

pasha´s log: day 3

Boy, you take one quick li’l catnap on the beach and it ends up all over the internet. Doesn’t seem right. This morning started real nice with a quick li’l run on the beach and in the ocean even a bit. I think Rommy and Raddy must be tired or something because the run seemed a lot shorter than we usually go for. I did some serious digging on the beach, hunted around for some of those weird looking creatures that I sometimes find in the sand, scurrying along sideways, but no such luck today. We went back our place and relaxed for a bit. I was starting to feel much more comfortable and at home in my new surroundings, that is, until I got into a bit of a fight with the big black dog that lives around here. I’m not exactly sure what happened but she was coming near me on our porch and the next thing I know she’s on top of me trying to separate my head from body. It was no big deal, though. My mouth did feel a bit different after, almost like something was missing. And there was a sweet tasting liquid coming from somewhere, I’m not sure where, that I licked up. Afterwards, Raddy was acting real nervous, more so than usual even. I got to go for a car ride after that and stuck my head out the window when the car was going real fast. Raddy and another man took me inside to see some guy who looked at my chin and mouth for a bit, and then we left. Basically, just relaxed the rest of the day before going to the beach again later. It’s hard to sleep here because there’s so much going on all the time, so I was real sleepy by nighttime. Rommy cooked some real good food and I even got to have some of it, it was real soft and white and chewy and smelled like the ocean, mmm mmm. I’m licking my lips just thinking about it. There are rumors I’ll be having steak tomorrow, licking my lips about that too. A guy could really get used to this eating.

Editor’s Note: A lost tooth and a fair gash under the chin was the damage. He’s a hockey player now, one that is infinitely tougher and braver than his hockey playing companion. I feel much better about the whole incident now, but here’s something I wrote immediately after what had been a pretty rough couple of days for him and us: “As the extreme sadness, already preceded by fits of terror, anger, disgust, and disappointment in my self and the world, washes over a pathetic and useless body and soul, it’s a challenge to feel pleasance, and even harder to feel anything all. The alcohol helps with the latter, certainly, but the search for the former remains as elusive and hopeless as ever. No, more so.”

pasha´s log: day 2

This is number one in a series of entries written by our dog describing his reflections on our two week vacation through the Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico.

Well, I woke up today (and several times through the night) in a very strange place. It’s much warmer here than back at home, and the smells are pretty different, but in a good way I guess, too. There are also all sorts of li’l bugs that crawl around on the ground, especially by my food, and some that fly in the air too. Raddy and Rommy are here, thank god, but they slept most of the morning. I tried to get them to wake up and let me see what was going on outside for a while before Raddy finally lumbered out of bed, grumpily I might add, and let me scope out the new digs. Boy, was it worth it, there’s so much green grass everywhere and interesting plants and trees (to pee on) and flowers (to munch on). And it’s not cold out at all like back home. I definitely don’t need to wear a jacket, and I can even wander around without that silly leash around my neck. This is all a much welcomed development, especially after what happened yesterday. I had to go in my stupid kennel and be separated from the humans again, except this time it seemed a lot longer than usual, and I even had a few different people take me and put me in several small places where I was all alone and heard lots of scary sounds. I’m not very good with time so I don’t know how long it was, by the time I finally saw my parents, I was so tired and scared, and I had to pee so bad, it really wasn’t very fun. But then I saw them and they let me out of my kennel and we went for a nice, long walk, and we even got to go for a car ride, and I felt much better. I didn’t rest as much as normal, and I still feel a li’l sleepy, but it’s nice to stretch my legs and to feel the sun again. I have no clue where we are but I’m looking forward to a good time, and of course being with my loving, if slightly silly, pack, as always.

Editor’s Note: The three of us had a direct flight from JFK, NYC to Cancun Sunday morning. The flight originally purchased to be on the prior Saturday was unexpectedly and without reason given cancelled, by the good folks at American Airlines, and we were re-booked for the next day, losing a day of precious vacation time (that I am on what appears to be a permanent vacation is besides the point). While the humans arrived as scheduled in the afternoon, we were notified that Pashi, my number #1 li’l guy and raison d’etre, was not placed on our plane, but rather, was sent on a different flight (from Laguardia!) to Dallas (good lord, I’ve never even been to Dallas!) and would be coming to Cancun 6 hours later than scheduled. Between hysterical fits of crying and gnashing of teeth, we waited and did what we could to keep on. He finally arrived in our arms, at around 9pm local time, just shy of 13 hours after we said goodbye to him in his kennel in New York. If there are any plots out there to bomb the corporate offices of American Airlines, and/or the homes of all its executive officers, I will work day and night for the rest of my life to finance the entire operation. (Those of you that know me know that the last statement is patently untrue, not because of my reluctance to maniacally pursue uselessly excessive vengeance, but rather, my inability to work day and night for any cause, no matter how dear).

dont leave me, guys

This is our dog, Pasha. He’s a rascal, a fighter, a lover, a terrier, and as you can see here, quite a pouter. He sits atop the highly unofficial and equally vague, “greatest guys ever” list. He is also my best friend. I can safely say that (safely not in terms of certainty, but in terms of not expecting physical retribution) because I don’t think my girlfriend reads any of this. (Reminiscent of the line from the late, great Mitch Hedberg: "I don't have a girlfriend, I just know a girl who would get really mad if she heard me say that.") She and I are taking a quick trip to the sultry wasteland known as Los Angeles to see the nieces, catch some rays, and eat at the In-N-Out Burger. In addition to the horrifyingly execrable experience of familial dysfunction, these trips bring on the gut-wrenching decision of either leaving the li’lest guy (also known as Pashi, Mushu, or Mushi-mushu, if you're not into the whole brevity thing) here in the cold and lonely megalopolis, or sticking him under tons of steel making what I imagine are terrifying noises for hours as we’re all transported across the country, him into the tired and regretful clenches of underpaid baggage handlers who I hope are kind enough not to dognapp and sell him on the black market for the tens of thousands of dollars he's surely worth but rather see that he arrives safely and without incident into my welcoming and nervously awaiting arms. ("I know I'm paranoid, but am I, too paranoid?") We have decided that the stress and trauma of being left alone in our apartment with his sitter (which we cannot come close to estimating with any certainty) is less than the stress and trauma of accompanying us via checked baggage (which we also cannot come close to estimating with any certainty) on our fairly short trip. Probably the safest decision, but one that will nevertheless bring me immeasurable anxiety, longing, and sadness over the course of the next few days. Don’t worry li’l guy, Raddy will be home soon.