Buying skate shoes in Bismarck, North Dakota

Today we have a guest post from Cat, who I met through her Fort Collins blog, Lost Fort Collins: ´´An unofficial exploration of Fort Collins history´´, who recently posted today´s story on her new Bismarck Blog.  Cat´s blog has inspired me in many ways to explore things like Reedsburg history and see the value of putting the content online.  It is amazing to see how much people from the community can add to a post through their comments.

She says this about today´s ´´Buying skate shoes in Bismarck, North Dakota´´ post:

´´My online friend, Paul, left for Lima, Peru, at about the same time I left for Bismarck, North Dakota. In some twisted way, I see parallels as we both leave behind life we know and abandon the job force in the middle of a recession to find what else there is. In a recent blog post, he wrote about finding a surfboard in Lima, Peru. This is my not-so-parallel universe response.´´

We came to North Dakota, my son and I, with one bag each, a carry on, and whatever we could fit in the pockets of our jackets. Underwear and chapstick, mostly.

I thought it was modern Joad. Flying away from the old life, the house, the job that wasn’t going anywhere, and all those possessions that weigh us down and keep us from what’s real.*

But tell that to a 13-year-old with only second-hand snow boots to wear. As you might imagine, we were soon downtown, scouting Bismarck’s two skate shops for acceptable boy shoes. Maybe a pair with some free stickers in the box…:

Discontent
On the web, Discontent looks the most promising of the local stores. It has an indoor skate park for these cold Bismarck winters. Surely the center of skate culture, if such a thing exists here.

And maybe it is, but it’s also a head shop. Burning incense, dusty skate shoes, Bob Marley silk screens, well-used ramps, and an 18+over back room.

Let’s talk about pot for a minute. I don’t care how legal pot ought to be, little kids have a hard enough time of it and…okay, let’s not. But someday you’ll have a kid or even a kid sister, and you’ll get it. So, I’ll just say this:

Damn, you’d think shop owners would know who pays for those $60 skate shoes. It’s not the kids.

Savvy Sk8 and Sno
Even less promising was Savvy Sk8 and Sno. Its lame web presence is dated and incomplete. From the web site, I was sure I had missed it by maybe 3 months–out of business. I drove to the address anyway, in a hybrid residential/industrial neighborhood next to a public housing complex, and found a splintered sign on top of an aluminum barn.

If they went out of business, it surely wasn’t the rent that did them in.

But surprisingly, the lights were on. Then more surprisingly, inside I found a thriving skate and snowboard enterprise. Nicely lit, full of choices.

“Of course,” I thought. “An incomplete web site can mean dead. But it can also mean too-popular-to-get-to-the-online-thing.” And I think that might be the case for Savvy. It fairly teems with kids.

Could it be that the best businesses don’t need social networking to make it? That in a small town getting your name out there isn’t near as important as getting kids to want to come back?

Maybe it’s in fact a positive statement that Savvy didn’t sink money into rent or online marketing.

I’m guessing, no, I’m hoping, that could be true about many more things in life.

*In truth, we’re only Joad-ing temporarily, in a few weeks we’ll go back to Colorado and get more of our crap to move back up here…but that doesn’t change my image of myself as a 21st century Henry Fonda, not even a little bit.

Buying a Surfboard in Lima, Peru

UPDATE (11/29/2010): After I broke my first board, I had a new board made by a friend of a friend, Daniel Martinez.  He made me an awesome custom board (6'2") and I would highly recommend him to anyone else who wants a new board.  His shop is located in the south side of Lima in/near Barranco.  Here is a video of him making some boards.  The easiest way to contact him is probably through Facebook.

***

During my first two weeks in Lima I tried to ask as many people as I could about where I could get a decent surfboard.

Before I left, I searched on Craigslist - Lima, but found nothing surf-related.  I got the impression that Craigslist is not so popular here.  Later, I posted a 'wanted' listing for a surf board on Craigslist and about a week later, I got a response from Sebastian at nextsurftrip.com.  He had a board, but it wasn´t the size I was looking for.  He recommended I try a Derrem board, (derrem.com), made in Lima.

Piero, from my hostel in Barranco (Hostel Kaminu), who was generous to lend me his board while I searched for my own, recommended I try going to either the Wayo Whilar board shop nearby in Barranco (wayowhilar.com.pe), or to the Klimax surf shop in Miraflores (klimaxsurf.com).  Both shops sell new and used boards for very reasonable prices compared to U.S. prices.

Meanwhile, I came across vendotablasperu.com.  This is the craigslist of Lima surfboards.  The site is clunky but the content is great.  Here I found my surfboard, a 6-year old, plenty-used, 6`5`` board shaped by Peruvian Martín Jerí, for $100.  I was pretty happy about it.

Some locals tell me that my find was 'mas o menos', in terms of a deal.  I have some things to learn.  For example, today when one visitor left the hostel where I am staying in Punta Hermosa, he left his board behind with the hostel owner in exchange for a $30 discount on his hostel bill, rather than paying $150 or so to bring his board back with him on the plane.

I don't know of any websites or boardshops where you can get a deal like that, but if you hang around surfers getting ready to fly, you're sure to get a true bargain board.

If you can recommend other ways to buy a surfboard in Peru, please leave a comment below.

3 fruits

If you happen to be near a store that might have any of these three fruits, I highly recommend you try them some time.

1. Maracuyá (aka passion fruit)
My favorite is simply as fresh juice, or as a maracuyá sour.


2. Lúcuma
I´ve had this one a couple of times, once in a blended drink, and once as a yogurt flavor.  In the blended drink, it tasted like white cake batter mix.  The second time I had it, as yogurt, I got sick shortly afterwards but I think the two things were unrelated.

3. Miracle Fruit
This one I´ve never tried but I want to... it makes the most sour fruits taste intensely sweet.  Eat a lemon after eating miracle fruit and it will taste sweet.  I don´t think I´d be able to try this one if it wasn´t for the wonders of the internet.  Via enjoymiraclefruit.com one can get 10 ´Miracle Fruities´ chews for $14.95

NOAA Historical Fisheries Photo Library

The header image from this blog comes from NOAA´s Historical Fisheries photo library from George Brown Goode´s 1880 study of fisheries in the United States, ¨The Fisheries and Fisheries Industries of the United States.¨

from NOAA´s site:

These wonderful works resulted from a study undertaken in the 1880's by George Brown Goode, Deputy Commissioner of the United States Commission of Fish and Fisheries. The purpose of this study was to capture the state of the American fisheries at that time and to use the knowledge gained as a base line for future studies. Goode admirably succeeded in this, but at the same time he also captured an interesting segment of Nineteenth Century Americana and helped describe a significant part of the marine environment.

Want a new desktop background image?  Have a look at the fish/animal drawings or the History of Methods and Fisheries album.

Getting a yellow fever vaccination in Lima, Peru

´´Anything free is worth saving up for,´´ says Grandpa Sodey in the Wisconsin/Michigan cult-classic film Escanaba in Da Moonlight.  I thought that this was true, but I will now settle for ´´Anything cheap is worth saving up for.´´

After talking to many people and visiting several places around the city, the place I recommend going to obtain a yellow fever vaccination in Lima is the Hospital del Niño at 28 de Julio and Brazil in the Breña section of Lima.  There, you can get the yellow fever vaccination for 65 nuevo soles, or $22.50 USD.  Unless you want it for free...




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To get a free vaccination for travel within the country of Peru, one can go to the Hospital Santa Rosa to obtain the shot and a certificate for domestic travel on Fridays between 8am and 11am.  However, when I went, the vaccine was no longer available so I would have to try again in a week to get the free shot.  I went to the Hospital del Niño, instead.

Also, anyone with plans to travel to in high-risk areas outside of Peru would still need to exchange their domestic-travel certificate from the free clinic for an international one at a place like the Centro de Salud San Isidro.  The certificate costs 30 nuevo soles or about $12 USD.

In the United States, you can expect to pay about $225 to get a yellow fever vaccination if you are paying out of pocket.  At Physicians Plus Travel Clinic in Madison, WI, most visits include a $54 counseling fee, a $146 fee for the vaccination itself, and $24 for a nurse to administer the shot, totalling $224.

In his talk, Money Saving Advice From a Cheapskate, Ryan Wanger says, ¨Being a cheapskate is all about time and money.  People who have a lot of money, they don´t want to invest the time.  Then there´s the reverse; people who are cheapskates, their motto is ´my time is basically worthless.´¨

$24 for a shot in Lima was small beans compared to getting the shot for $225 back home, but this time, the free shot wasn´t worth saving up for.

By the way, I´m posting this less than twelve hours after getting my shot, and I am still alive, so hopefully I can still say ´It was worth it´ 48 hours from now.

12-year-old Questions

I left for Lima, Peru on Saturday morning and at the airport, a 12-year-old boy inspected my shoes for a minute, then approached me and asked, "Are those the Nike SB Stefan Janoski's?"

"Yes," I told him, "One of my friends who I grew up skateboarding with gave them to me and several other friends and we all wore them in his wedding."

"Cool," he said.  "I work at a skate shop in Houston."
-"That's really cool," I said.

Two minutes later he approached me again with more questions:

"Are you sponsored?"
-"Nope."
"So you just do it for fun?"
-"Yes, exactly."
"That's cool. Where are you going now?"
-"To South America, I'm going surfing, actually.  It's something I've wanted to do since I was your age."
"Really?! Is that all you're taking"
-"Yes."
"How long are you going for?"
-"Five months"
"That's all you'll need for five months!?"
-"I hope so!", I said.
"What kind of a job do you have that you can travel for five months?"
-"Well, I stopped working so I could do a trip like this."
"But aren't your mom and dad going to miss you?"
-"Yes, they probably will."
"What did they say when you told them you were leaving!?"
-"I think they were a little jealous! They wish they could go to Peru, too."

Meanwhile, I think his mom was smiling as she overheard the conversation and his dad was hoping his son didn't get any crazy ideas from me.

In his five-minute round of questions, I think this kid was completely blown away that I was leaving the country for five months.  Many people whom I've talked to are.  But I applaud him for asking all the questions on his mind and getting answers; how could something that seems so impossible be possible?  In the end I think he got it.

Mister Bato, a Cahuita Legend

From the stories I heard, Mister Bato was capable of almost supernatural powers, including the ability to hold his breath underwater for hours and lift objects weighing more than 200 pounds.  Once, he rescued some construction equipment that had spilled into the river.  The townspeople asked him if he could recover it from the river bottom so Mister Bato dove down, and resurfaced two hours later with the equipment in hand. For payment, Mister Bato did not ask for much: "Solo nececito una botella de alcohól".

Walter "Gavitt" Ferguson, a Cahuita musician and songwriter, sings about a different story here in the song "Cabin in the Wata".  In this story, Mister Bato again employs some crafty tricks to try to escape his outcome when the Costa Rica National Park Service insists that he may no longer keep his cabin on the land that will be turned into the Cahuita National Park.

Mister Bato thought, 'If I can't have my cabin on the land, then I guess I'll build my cabin in de wata'!


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Cabin in the Wata
by Walter "Gavitt" Ferguson


This modern generation,
Every day the people getting smarter:
Now they made me to understand
Bato build a cabin in the wata.

   Oh, the cabin in the wata
   Mister Bato was the author
   He was a fine constructor, really never knew
   The bugger was a builder

   Oh, the cabin in the wata
   Mister Bato was the author
   I knew he was a diver, but I never knew
   The bugger was a builder

The Mistress at the National Park
Mr. Bato said it was a rumor;
She decided to take a walk,
Lo and behold: a cabin in the wata.

The lady was getting hot
When she saw the cabin in the sea
Jumping like red beans boiling in pot,
And she tell him must pull it down immediately.

The building was quite erect,
Imagine it was standing in the sea!
The lady called him an architect
“¡But you going to pull it down immediately!”

Now they come to a big dispute,
Bato said, “Me born in Costa Rica.”
“You could a born in Ethiopia
Me no want no cabin in the wata.”

Kiaky Brown was telling me
About the Cabin in the wata:
“Bato build something in the sea,
Must be build it with the devil and he daughter.”

   Oh, the cabin in the wata
   Mister Bato was the author
   He was a fine constructor, really never knew
   The bugger was a builder

   Oh, the cabin in the wata
   Mister Bato was the author
   I knew he was a diver, but I never knew
   The bugger was a builder

Me and Sam McGee

My Godfather, Jim, recites this poem (or at least the gist of the poem) almost any time we're together. It is a story that I and anyone who has know Jim has grown up with, and one that I aspire to memorize some day.

The Cremation of Sam McGee
by Robert W. Service

     There are strange things done in the midnight sun
     By the men who moil for gold;
     The Arctic trails have their secret tales
     That would make your blood run cold;
     The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
     But the queerest they ever did see
     Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
     I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam ‘round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he’d often say in his homely way that “he’d sooner live in hell.”

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see;
It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o’erhead were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and “Cap,” says he, “I’ll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I’m asking that you won’t refuse my last request.”

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn’t say no; then he says with a sort of moan:
“It’s the cursed cold, and it’s got right hold till I’m chilled clean through to the bone.
Yet ‘taint being dead--it’s my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you’ll cremate my last remains.”

A pal’s last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn’t a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn’t get rid, because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: “You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it’s up to you to cremate those last remains.”

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows—O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;
And I’d often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the “Alice May.”
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then “Here,” said I, with a sudden cry, “is my cre-ma-tor-eum.”

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don’t know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: “I’ll just take a peep inside.
I guess he’s cooked, and it’s time I looked;” . . . then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: “Please close that door.
It’s fine in here, but I greatly fear you’ll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it’s the first time I’ve been warm.”

     There are strange things done in the midnight sun
     By the men who moil for gold;
     The Arctic trails have their secret tales
     That would make your blood run cold;
     The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
     But the queerest they ever did see
     Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
     I cremated Sam McGee.