Sunday, April 6, 2008

fire and ice






family, friends, countymen...

ah so much to tell of from the end of the world... ¿where oh where shall i begin? well, after brooks and robin met up with patch and i at our little haven of a campsite by the lake we let grow our senses for adventure a few more days and then started south to the end of the world also know as ushuaia, the last main city in the tierre del fuego (for those of you who dont habla español, that means the land of fire, which makes it a rather extreem souding place no matter how you look at it). normally this journey would take a full day and a half on a long friggin busride, but that of course would be the easy way, so we opted for the road less traveled (note: the thing about roads less traveled is that there is usually a reason for them being less traveled). from bariloche we took a 14 hour bus ride to comodoro riviera (or something to that effect) which was made easier for robin patch and myself by two liter boxes of wine, but unfortunatly for brooks he got a touch of a stomach thing and spent most of the night empying the contents of his bowels. surprisingy, after all that, he was still able to bless our arrival at the bus terminal with a hearty and violent bout of vomiting into a nearby trashcan... ive never felt like such a homeless person before in my entire life. anywho we had to kill the whole day in camiando riviwhatever and then caught the nightbus out to rio gallegos, but when we got there at 8 in the mañana we discovered that no buses to ushuaia left until 8 the following morning. so this time instead of paying to store our heavy packs and discover next to nothing we decided to just wait er out in the terminal. 24 hours, several of the most anal retentive cleaning ladies, many a croassword and card game, one game of scrabble and a terrible nights sleep later we finally found ourselves on the last ten hour leg of our trip to the southernmost tip of the americas.
tired and smelly we splurged on a hostel (with actual beds!) out of our buget range but run by wonderful wonderful fellow human beings who cooked a delicious asado (argentine bbq that is the most heavenly thing on earth... forget what youve heard about cleanliness, because i certainly have). but after two nights of that our pockets were aching for mother nature so we headed out for a trek through the woods and betwixt the mountains. it took us 4 nights instead of one, rained and winded most of the time (thank goodness wed bought those matching brightly colored panchos), and i think i may have lost my big toenail somewhere along the way, but in between all that we encountered some of the most beautiful landscape i have ever seen: glaciers amidst teal blue lakes amidst jagged peaks amidst redorangeyellow changing leaves, did i mention the glaciers? yeah, glaciers. needless to say, i am feeling very much like a mountain woman these days. maybe its because i have BO. i cant remember ever having BO. but let me tell ya, 5 days on the trail and robin and i smelt almost as bad and patch and brooks 30 minutes out of the showers, and thats bad.
but anyway we are smelly and greasy but safe and sound as is sancho panza (thats patch´s mouse weve been traveling with, have i mentioned that ive been traveling with a mouse? well i have. and if i may say so, its really the best way to travel. makes border crossing way more exciting too). but yes, my point was safe and sound and now heading northward. dont know where to exactly yet, but north. so, you all should feel my presence inching closer presently.

buen onda.

2 comments:

WadnerDaddy said...

OK, fine. For years I offer to take the young wadnerer backpacking in luxurious circumstances - well, pretty good for a backpacker anyway - and all I ever heard was, "What else ya' got?" Jake and I felt lucky to slip that one trip in on you before you knew enough about backpacking to just say NO! Which you regularly did. And suddenly at 22 there you are, teetering on the edge of the world being Eleanor mountaingirl. Amazing. Thank you for all the repetitions of the word safe, though. Safe is good. Really, wonderfully good. Snuggle up in safe. Let safe wrap warm arms around you and keep you in it's embrace.

Connie said...

Some girls have all the fun!! (Except for the complementary accommodations in the local bus terminal, the missing toenail, AND 5 day old BO -- all of which you could have experienced right here in the the good ole USA!) But reasonable sacrifices, I suppose, for traveling with friends (and a mouse) through a country with so many spectacular landscapes and some fairly tasty BBQ!

And since it is National Poetry Month back home, I'm sending a few poems your way, including this one about a mouse....

Imagining (for sancho panza)

You're only just imagining
A mouse is in your hair.
You've got to stop imagining
That mice are everywhere.
I think you're just imagining
To give yourself a scare.
But trust me dear, I wouldn't lie:
There is no mouse up there.

The Weavers (for Eleanor)

I was sittin', I was knittin'
On a sweater I could wear.
When I finished, I said proudly,
"Hey, I've done some weavin' there."
But ol' spider on the wall said,
"Can you do it in the air?
Can you spin it out of gossamer
From the ceiling to the stair?
Can you let the wind blow through it
So it sways but doesn't tear?
Then can you grab onto it
And swing lightly on a hair?
When you can -- then you may truly say,
"I've done some weavn' there.'"

Pacaypalla (for you and your fellow travelers)

Ya esta la tierra entorno
de mi dandome vueltas
como el metal al son de la campana.

Ya esta de cuanto ame
mi pequeno universo,
el sistema estrellado de las olas,
el desorden abrupto de las piedras.
Lejos, una ciudad con sus harapos,
llamandome, pobre sirena,
para que nunca, no se desamore
mi corazon de sus duros deberes,
y yo con cielo y lira
en la luz de lo que amo,
inmovil, indeciso,
levantando la copa de mi canto.

Oh, aurora desprendida
de la sombra y la luna en el oceano,
siempre vuelvo a tu sal abrasadora,
siempre es tu soledad la que me incite
y llegado otra vez no se quien soy,
toco la arena dura, miro el cielo, paseo sin saber donde camino, hasta que de la noche
suben y bajan flores indecibles: en el acido aroma
del litoral palpitan las estrellas.

Errante amor, retorno
con este corazon fresco y cansado
que pertenece al agua y la arena,
al territorio seco de la orilla,
a la batalla blanca de al espuma.

Much love,
Mom