buenos aires: round 2

view of the full moon from my borrowed tent at salta municipal campsite.

nacho and me.

view of downtown buenos aires from the ecological reserve.

scrabble night at the hostal.

oh man, what a month. so it all started out with a week on kevin´s floor, half a block from the widest street the world (i counted 20 lanes, but ive never been good at math) complete with pricey vegan food, spanish school, greenhorn 18 year old americans, and the works.

then, kevin got the flu, so i got the heck out of there and into a hostel in a quieter area of town. and, seeing how its winter down here, my hostel mates were all of 7, 4 of whom were employees. so it made for a nice, querky, family like feeling, plus i got a whole loft to myself, sweet! im not quite sure where those two weeks went, but i think i may have lost them between seeing jessica (the quiet librarian of the group) jump up on a bar and rip off her top to ¨i love rock and roll,¨ fighting with brenden (the reincarnated hemmnigway, but nicer, probably) over countless games of scrabble, taco teusdays at a chipotle copy-cat, run by a ¨buddy¨of andy (the sox fan from boston who also happens to speak italian, portugese, and a bit of spanish which he charmingly blends with english swear words), not to mention countless batches of homemade empanadas. oh and the 2 kids who run the place like to invite all their friends and friends bands over for house parties every so often. so with all that it was rather easy to loose track of things; like time... and my debit card.

yep i was all ready to check out and catch a bus north when, whoopsie daisies... wheres my debit card?? and since the combined iq of the fine people who opperate the phone bank at wells fargo comes somewhere close to that of a choripan (which are delicious as far a sausage sandwiches go, but none too bright), i found myself stuck in buenos aires for a week with no more cash, which meant goodbye hostel and hello nacho.

no, no, im not talking about the deliciously cheesy mexican ourdeurve (? no clue.), but a wonderful new argentine friend who opened up his floor to me in a little artists flat in palermo, hollywood (there is also a palermo, soho. so tacky). and after going on tours of the areas best grafiti murals, drinking beer out of gigantic plastic cups at la bomba del tiempo (the biggest and coolest percussion show ever), ¨helping¨him with the lighting design at a local club (really he just let me push some buttons in time with the music for a while), playing darts in his kitchen, watching a silent movie in the national library, and teaching him the beauty of american delicacies such as home made steak tacos, and chocolate chip cookies, being stuck in buenos aires really wasnt all that bad.

and that brings us to salta. i decided that debit cards are over rated and im not about to let little problems, hiccups rather, like not having any money keep me from traveling. so i bought a bus ticket with my credit card and arrived just in time to not get the last seat on the only bus leaving for san pedro de atacma for the next 4 days. no problem. i showed up at the municipal campsite, tentless, and one of the women there took pity on me and lent me her tent, which she actually rode her bicycle to her house to go get for me. and thats pretty much all there is to tell. around salta is lovely, but the city itself is kindof, eh. and with no money ive been doing alot of reading and much needed napping, a bit of hiking and chatting with my fellow argentine campers. tomorrow ill once again be in the company of a branch of the santa cruz crew, but not till i make it through one more uncomfortable night in a bus terminal. man, whatd id do for a crossword.

¡che!

after returning to the farm for a few weeks to get my fix of fresh air, rambuncious children and manual labor i felt ready for the city again. so on information id recieved from a drunken frenchman, who had talked to a dreadlocked spaniard, who heard from a belgian farmer that manu chao was playing a free concert in rosario to celebrate the 80th birthday of che guevara i packed up my backpack, said my goodbyes and headed east with two other voluntarias.

we arrived early in the morning and were met by a tall, lanky kid with dark sunglasses and a swagger. this is julian. we stayed on his floor for the next 4 nights (or was it 5?) along with one of his friends who had gotten down on his luck, a danish guy and another californian. its called couch surfing ladies and gentlemen and its goshdarned fabulous. every day lasted around 20 hours every one of them different. one night we drank champagne on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in the city and then danced till dawn at an 80s disco, the next closed down the house at the best folk music show ive ever seen, we cheered from the front row as one of our new housemates sang-screamed-growled into the microphone at a local heavy metal venue, and froze our buns off at a free rock concert on the river... and no, manu chao wasnt in the line up. just goes to show you should never trust information offered by a drunken frenchman who heard it from a dreadlocked spaniard, etc, etc. the both of whom by the way we bumped into at the folk show and joined for various other outtings the rest of the week. but it wasnt all youth crazed debauchery. i met some of the most wonderful people on my trip to date and i have to admit, i left them with a bit of a heavy heart (not to mention eyelids), but such is the life of a traveler. i think it was kahil gibran who said something like, when the wings of love enfold you, yeild to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. ok, so its a little dramatic, but whats life without a bit of drama, eh?

and now here i am back in buenos aires being insessantly rained on and feeling extreemly thankful for the shelter of the grand palace turned office building where my spanish classes are held as i am locked out of kevins apartment till 4. oh! and goodness me its nearly 4. so as my tummy organs are gumbling noisily i think ill go find the boy and begin our daily adventure of locating vegan eateries in the land of meat and meat.

chao for now.

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.