Forget Sochi: Have Your Own Private Olympics (with Video!)

Photo courtesy of Atos.

Photo courtesy of Atos International.

There’s so many reasons not to bother with the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia this year.  Let’s count them, shall we?

1. The virulent anti-homophobia that has gripped Russia courtesy of Vladimir Putin (despite the most watched winter sports being dominated by the gays. I’m not here to out anyone but if a dude has custom ice skates on and and a matching lycra outfit, there’s a pretty safe bet to be placed that he won’t be sidling up to any Playboy parties anytime soon).

2. THERE’S NO HOTEL ROOMS – even for the people (media) who let Russian officials know they’d be coming, oh, A YEAR ago. From USA Today:

A stray dog inside the hotel, building dust everywhere and debris scattered all around. That’s what some Olympic-accredited visitors have found on arrival in the mountains above Sochi.According to the Sochi Olympic organizing committee, only six of the nine media hotels in the mountain area are fully operational. The accommodation for athletes, however, has not been affected by the problems.

3. This lady and all her bomb-happy pals – there are apparently, more than five – who are really, really angry at Putin and have threatened to blow some (read: any) shizz up. Oh yeah – and she made it through security.

Run if you see this woman.

4. And let’s not forget the fact that NBC, in an attempt to corral ad dollars into prime time, doesn’t like to run the Olympics live, so by the time you watch the main events they are already on the interwebs and the events the network deems unworthy (like mine and Putins favorite, rhythmic gymnastics) they don’t bother to show at all.

So, my duckies, I present an alternative for you – Chile. In August, all the Olympics skiers train their butts off at Valle Nevado (home of the aforementioned Man Stew) and Portillo ski resorts. Where you can watch Olympians do their things without crowds or bombers… and then party with them later that night.

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Lost In Translation: The Best of The Worst Signs In The World

Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

Warning: you may lose your head on the train to Morretes, Brazil.

You have no idea how many times I’ve walked through a random street in some random section of the world and tried to figure out just what the local government is trying to tell me.

Don’t take a picture of rats? [Fine].

Don’t stick your head in the fire? [Yep. Figured that out].

Wild Monkeys may eat my hat? [I didn’t really like it much anyway].

Don’t feed the volcano? [Considering volcanoes historically only eat virgins, I don’t qualify].

You learn so much about a place from its signs. Mali has an AIDS problem; Colombia is more concerned with drugs;  Egypt apparently has a huge sex trafficking issue… and everyone is concerned with where and how you poop.

So, for your viewing pleasure, after the jump I offer some of the best signs I’ve found all over the world…

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Eating An Alien Lung At Santiago’s Mercado Centrale

I love a food market, especially a fish market. Fun fact: After 8 surgeries on my ears as a child, my auditory orifices are shot so I can’t go diving. Even if I could, being from Ohio and Kentucky, every time I go snorkeling far from the shore I hear the “Jaws” theme pumping in my head. So, yeah. No scuba masks for me. Instead,  I go diving by visiting fish markets. Which suits me just fine – that way I can actually touch the fish and check them out without having them swim away or, you know, bite me. Added bonus: Dry Diving means I also don’t have to worry about a bikini wedgie or that weird rash you get from a wet suit.

Yummy. I swear.

I haven’t been to my dream fish market in Tokyo yet, but the one in Sydney Fish Market was pretty insane – with almost everything in the ocean available to poke, prod and squeeze.

So I was pretty stoked to find the fish market in the Mercado Central in Santiago, Chile. My guide, Fanor (velascofanor@hotmail.com), even introduced me to a new sea specimen I hadn’t even heard of: Piure.

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How To Survive High Altitudes (With Bonus Video!)

Coca leaves, I looove you!

Coca leaves, I looove you!

I’m usually good up in the mountains – okay fine, there may be a bout or fifteen with HAF*, but nothing a few GasX won’t cure – but holy hell was I not prepared for what was about to happen in Peru or Chile.

High Altitude Sickness kicked in the first time for me in Peru. I was in Cusco at the market – not the big tourist one but the one waaaaay down the hill where the locals go – haggling my ass off over some alpaca skins when suddenly I wanted to die. As in crawl in the ground and call it a day. I got nauseous, light headed, dizzy and blacked out thinking, “THIS is how it’s gonna go down? Here?” I woke up to the guy I was haggling with standing over me and shoving what looked like bay leaves in my mouth.

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