men to the doza

its snowing!!! well kindof... it hasnt stuck to the ground or anything but there is definetly white stuff coming down from the sky every now and again and the temperature has dropped a good 25 degrees since last week so it sure feels exciting (in that i-cant-feel-my-extremities sort of way).

well as of today i have been in what used to be the sunny city of mendoza for 23 sunrises, most of which ive actually seen because my spanish classes start so ungodly early. but besides the fact that it makes it impossible to get more than 5 hours of sleep, spanish school has proved to be one of my better travel ideas ... ive befriended many friendly gringos and english learning locals, developed a love-hate relationship with the subjunctive tense, and been accepted into a lovely argentine family with a pitbull named vorki who has fallen in lust with my calf. and to make matters better mendoza itself is a beautiful city. every street is lined with huge, shady (oak?) trees. the only downside to this is the drastically increased possibilty of being shat on by a pigeon, a fate ive only narrowly escaped. the sidewalks are made of coblestone and tile and are kept impecably clean by fussy old women who actually scrub them with soapy water every morning and arent afraid to spray or sweep a foot or two if they happen to get in the way. the best part though is the park and the fact that it has a big lake complete with an island and takes up a good third of the city.

so thats mendoza. i leave this weekend to see what snow is like when your diggin ditches on a farm. something i really never wanted to find out, but it looks like im a gonna. id better get to my spot on the couch so i can join the others in rooting for Boca... apparently theyre in the semifinals of the southamerican cup. apparently its like a big deal or something. i hope they wont be able to tell that when comes to soccer... shh... im really quite apathetic. oops, sorry, futbol.

... y mas fotos (el bolson

yeah, it looks impressive but for the past ten minutes id been carrying him on my back.

magical el bolson.

julie the giant bubble headed american and irie agustin trying to compensate.

so. the adventure...

after an extended stay in rio grande the viejeros found there thumbs itching for action once again. the north beckoned. on the outside of town winds whipped off the ocean pumeling them with a wind chill that was surely below freezing. it was a sunday and no trucks were coming and, as they had gotten off to the usual late start, after only a few hours the sun began to sink low in the sky, and the sky began to spit drizzle down upon them and they soon decided to retreat back to the comfort of the hostel for one more night rather than brave the elements on the side of the highway. the following morning they began afresh, but once again the chilling wind quickly stifled their spirits and they began taking turns seeking shelter in a nearby weigh station. then just as they were about to give up, throw in the towel, submit to the man and buy some bus tickets brooks flagged down a rickety, old, tarp-ceiled cargo truck driven by an eccentric man named hugo. two joined hugo as he chained smoked and fixed mates and searched for various things under and behind his seat and tried to hit the sheep that were bold (or dumb) enough to cross the path of our wild ride. the others huddled in the back amid rocks and packs and mud that splashed up from the road, but with the couple blankets hugo loaned them and the rest of a bottle of whiskey it didnt proove to be all that unpleasant. they reached the boarder crossing back into argentina after dark and in the immigration line dear hugo found his new friends a ride with a couple of truckers who could get them all the way to el bolson by morning. but of course, as in all great adventures, there was a catch. these were not just any truckers... they were meat packing big rig truckers who only had room for vagabond travelers in the refigerated (though, thankfully, empty) meat trailor and as they had a schedule to keep would not stop till el bolson, not for food not for bathroom not for nothin. well, hell. they had sleeping bags and one night in a mobile meat refrigerator would kill them so they hurridly grabbed their packs and bid adeu to dear hugo and clammered into the icy blackness of the big rig. but then, another catch... due to unseasonably high winds the journey lasted 48 hours instead of 12 and with no money and no more food the viejeros past the time reading by head lamp light and playing some cards, and smiling for pictures the truckers took to proove to their friends and family that they really did stash a group of crazy gingos in their truck for two days, but mostly just lying on thier backs in their sleeping bags slipping between sleeping and daying dreaming the dark, until finally their heard the clunk of the hatch being unlocked and as greyish sunlight flooded their shrunken pupils they heard three beautiful words...el bolson, chicos!

fotos

brooks and patch enjoying the lovely moutain view from agustins house in el bolson.
first and failed attempt of hitching to el bolson
one our last moments together in the back of hugos truck. we miss you sancho panza, you wandering mouse, you...wherever you may be.
at home in the meat fridge of a big rig.
our benevolent meat packing captors with three kids whove never been happier to be standing out in the rain.

no writting yet this picture uploading bit took up far to much of the sunshine today. ok fine, just a line, though. the four musketeers are now relaxing in the lovely hippy town of el bolson after surviving their most interesting adventure so far. stay tuned...

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.

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After four wonderful days in the big beautiful city i was ready for a little bit of country and a familiar face. so i hopped on a nightbus bound for mendoza and 17hours later, after transfering to another bus to get to the small town of tunuyan, i was greeted by patchs open arms and now heavily bearded grinning face. after a 30 min walk to the farm we sat down to a huge meal in honor of nacho (the son of the farm owners) s 5th birthday. twas a bit overwhelming with all the fast talking and greeting and kissing, but in a really heartwarming kind of way. they are such a wonderful family, so passionate and kind. in the morning we we set out to earn our keep and, for a girl from orange county, id say i worked that hoe like nobodys business. after the mornings work was finished, jorge (the man of the farm) led all us volunteers in a yoga lesson after which we had lunch and a siesta and returned to work until nightfall (this time building walls out of mud, water and horse poop). but as good as all this sounds, we were itching to get to wadnering and head south to reach ushuaia (the southernmost city in the world) before summer had retreated too far. so we packed up our stuff and patchs mouse, sancho panza, and once again boarded a bus for the better part of a day. this time i ended up in bariloche in a beautiful campsite 3 kilometers outside of town with a view of the deep blue alpine-esk lake. id like to tell more, but time is so often of the essence for us wadnerers. more on bariloche and our 5 wonderful days there later.
PS please send warmth as i will be reaching very cold temperatures this evening.

the adventure continues...

so winter on the east coast was appropriately wintery and wonderful.
some highlights: 1. visiting wonderland (the last stop on the blue subway line in boston) where there streets werent paved with gumdrops, to my disappointment, but where i did have my first experience with snand ( wierd inbetween substance where the snow meets the sand). 2. walking home from a bar in brooklyn at 3 in the morning in the snow with no socks on. 3. having a song dedicated and sung to me at a comedy club in the lower east side. 4. dancing the night away at a by request dueling piano bar. 5. 4am dance parties on the third story of 98 pleasant street.
i could go on, but then they would cease to be highlights and be just regular old everyday lights. but alas, many good things must come to an end so i have now moved on from the northern hemesphere and am currently enjoying a change of weather and language and pretty much everything else in beautiful buenos aires.
the flight, flights, were unblievably long and exhausting (emotionally, mentally, physically) and when i finally arrived at the airport in my state of pan-exhaustion i made a series of mistakes which ended up making for the most expensive taxi ride i will ever take in my life. unless in the future taxis are made of gold and driven by good looking celebreties. feeling very sad about the state of humanity after being brutally swindled i walked into spring break hostel 2008. i mean i like to party as much as the next guy, but this place is dedicated to helping british people and the products of their colonies party like they could party anywhere else in the world. kinda lame. but there is always beer in the fridge and someone around to talk too, even if they are the bohiem travel snob type with pupils the size of nickles. however, this is not to say that i havent met a few down to earth awesome people too. one british girl in particular is totally my kind of awesome and after a solo tour of the city center on my first full day, which included the pink capitol building, the pedestrian calle florida and the beautiful shaded plaza of san martin (where, by the way, i managed to get bitten 6 times by mesquitos, in the middle of huge cosmopolitan city) the two of us headed out to a tango lesson. we both did rather well if i do say so myself and, after a delicous and cheap 10 o´clock dinner of steak and wine, we returned for the milonga (free dance, of sorts). however it very quickly become obvious that this was not the cool kid milonga, but the over 50 (60?) milonga. it didnt really matter, though, since as we were just beginners we actually had a good old time (pun intended) getting led around the room by all our newly accuired elderly angentine admirers. my favorite partner, though, was a man about half my height dressed in a full suit complete with a fidora hat who was probably the oldest and slowest person ive ever seen. i must have "danced" 5 songs with him. and by "danced" i mean he took hold of my arm and we walked in incredibly slow motion around the peremeter of the dance floor. really, it felt more like i was helping him cross a busy street than anything else. his one move was that every few steps (= few minutes) he would (slowly) rock back on one foot after taking a step. so, in the end, what the night lacked in thrills and eye candy it wholly made up for in amusement.
so long story short... ive found me another wonderful corner of this great big world.