Life is all but too easy here in Buenos Aires. I´ve got a great home, shitty job, and a pretty stellar group of friends. It´s just like real life! It´s all very new, but reminds me very much of my so called normal life back in the States. I think it´s because I actually have a job again. Fuck working. It´s really hard for me to adjust to this job. I´m working as a front desk lady in a cool hostel, but oh my god is it boring sometimes. At least when there are people out and about it makes the job much more enjoyable. But really there´s only so much time you can watch House and stalk ex girlfriends on facebook before you get bored. It´s funny that even though this is a shit job, I still find myself taking this it way too seriously. I get offended when a coworker or boss points out a flaw in my work, or when I´m anything less than a model employee. Not really the point of getting a brainless job, so I´ve decided to stop giving a shit, and pursue my original goal in South America: have the time of my life. Soon enough I´ll be done with this high paying monkeys job and get back on the road. I´m getting the stir crazy, excited feeling about getting back on the bike. I´ve somehow talked my Danish friend Teresa into coming back for round two on the bike. Hopefully I can keep the bike on two wheels this time around because we have plans on visiting the largest country in South America: Brazil. I´m pretty excited to see her again, get back on the bike, and try embarrassing myself speaking Portuguese. Should be fun.
Meanwhile in Argentina, I´m finally picking up their ridiculous accent, and I´m really getting into the big city life. I remember in Panama City I spent two days running around doing motorcycle related errands. By the end I pretty much accomplished nothing but waste my (extremely valuable) time. Here is Buenos it´s a different story. I went to change my oil, get some parts welded back together, get a car wash, and fix some bolts. I had to drive four blocks, and it took all but an hour or so. I fucking had those errands scheduled in for a whole day, now I guess it´s time to kick back with a beer. It seems pretty typical here that when I want to get out of the apartment and run around the city for a while it takes me like ten minutes to complete my tasks because everything is so damn close. It´s a good and bad sometimes because I only work three or four days a week, and I´ve become some lazy bum hanging around the apartment for way longer than what´s healthy. Good thing this is a very cool large city with plenty of places to explore, or else I´d think I go effing crazy staying in one place for so long. Let´s just say I do a lot of people watching / walking around different neighborhoods.
I´ve been lucky enough to meet some good people here too. My besties / roommates took off for a quick concert in Salta while I was stuck at work for a few days. I was pretty jealous when they left because it was the first time my job forced me to miss out on some good fun. I was left in this city ready to make my own good time. I had the weekend off, so I called up some friends and met some more cool expats. I was being lazy since I went to an English bar and hostel to see some live music. Not really Argentinian, but whatever it was still a good weekend. Time to get back to my albeit boring life here in the big city. More stories to come as soon as I hit the road again. Chau.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
3/14/2011 - Buenos Aires, Argentina: Car Jacking Trannies
Ok, so I know I´ve been incredibly lazy with this whole blogging thing. And I´m pretty sure I know the reason. It´s because I haven´t really been doing anything incredibly interesting. After the ridiculously long ride from near Ushuaia to Buenos Aires, I´ve been on a break. So honestly, I´ve just been fucking lazy. For the three weeks I have been living in Buenos Aires, I don´t have a whole lot of stories to tell. That said some fun / sad / awesome / boring stuff has happened so I´ll get to it.
After arriving to Buenos Aires, I immidiately felt at home. I knew I was going to like this place. It´s dubbed the ´Paris of the South´ which I think is a pretty apt description. Aside from the generally friendly people (Parisians are notoriously rude) and incredibly tall buildings everywhere, there are a lot of similaritites. Like the great food (sandwiches!), coffee culture, public transit, and high desinity living. And from what I remember when I visited Paris a few years ago, I loved it. Therefore, in a place where I can (well almost, I guess) speak the language, and know a bunch of great people, I know I should be content here for a few months.
A couple of weeks ago in the early afternoon heat, I get into a hostel looking for a party or a few new friends to meet and hit the city. It was a long lonely week on the road. I was stoked to be around people again, but the hostel I stayed at sucked. I don´t know how it happened, but everybody in this particular hostel was kind of unfriendly. Wierd, but I´ve met so many people that live here, that I just hit up some old mates and we grab a drink the next night. It was nice and low key, but they clue me in on how they got jobs and an apartment in the city. The plan starts developing, and the next step is to get out of a hostel and save some money by couchsurfing.
I don´t know if I´ve said it before, but couchsurfing.org is the best website on the internet. If you like to travel you should be on it. Really, I´ve met so many wonderful people through that website that I can´t begin to compliment it. Anyhow, once in Buenos I hit up a few surfers, thinking I´ll have to move around for a few weeks, before I can find an apartment and settle down for a bit. Again, I get incredibly lucky when the first surfers I hit up turn out to be totally awesome people. I was greeted with an ice cold beer on a hot humid afternoon, and all three of us hit it off immediately. I originally asked to stay for three days, but after a couple of weeks, I´m still living with them. I don´t even know how I managed that because I killed thier cat. Ok, not really, but thier long hair persian cat did commit suicide. The official story is that Duncan the cat watched a pigeon from the kitchen window. Then at one point jumped out of the window, caught the bird, and fell twelve stories to his death. It was a pretty hectic morning searching for him, and investigating the crime scene.Ultimately the sad truth was discovered, and miraculously Mariana and Sol took the news rather well. They are truly fabulous and geneours people. Even today after my first real day of working a graveyard shift. They brought me home a giant cheese burger from Burger King. How fucking nice! Just incredible people. Not to mention funny, witty, and all around delightful to be around. I have no idea how I´m going to thank them when I leave. What a great network for giving me an avenue to meet such cool people.
Alright, so the original plan when comming here was to get a job, because honestly I`ve had so much fun that I blew all my money. I had already made the decision that I´m not ready to come home yet, because really it´s like as soon as I start looking at plane flights, fun time is over. I´ve got to go back to California, get a job, find an apartment, blah blah blah. Fuck that, that´ll happen in a few months when I´m so home sick and broke, I´m forced to take my claws out of this continent and retreat. So intermitienly between naps, tv, and poking around with my guitar. I do look for jobs, and somehow successfully landed one. Thanks again to craisgslit, I found a job working nights at a little hostel nearby. It´s pretty chill job. I work the graveyard shift, so the hardest part is keeping myself entertained when nobody is around. I was describing it to my dad, and I told him that I´ll work for three nights at about seven to nine hours and I´ll make almost exactly as much money as I would working two hours at my old engineering job. I think it´s hillarious, it really puts things into a great culture perspective. But really it is an unfair comparison, because rent isn´t a thousand dollars a month, and I´m not working my ass off nearly fifty hours a week. At least I´ve got some income now, but it´s not enough to survive. I was basically relying on my tax return in hopes that I´ll get a lot of the taxes I paid back. After plenty of bitching, my old company finally sends the paperwork to the correct address. I was able to do my taxes, and it´s great fucking news. Since I only worked three quarters of the year I dropped down a few brackets, and I´m getting enough of my money back to go to Brazil. I´m so stoked! Thanks Uncle Sam! It was so relieved.
After being gone for so long, I´ve become homesick plenty of times. I really do miss family and friends the most, but there´s a lot I miss about my own culture. Burritos, burgers, sushi, and pho are pretty high on the list too, but there are plenty of other things. Like local live music, driving in a familiar place, my favorite bar: The Press, more food, and living in a place where I can zip to the mountians, big city, or beach all within a few hours drive. I remember in La Paz I was watching ´Cops´ on TV, and I was stoked when they pulled over some cross dressing car thief on the 10 freeway right near where I went to college. I was hanging with Teresa at the time and was like "yeah! I used to drive that freeway everyday! And I used to live just on the other side of those bushes in the dorms!" Then proceeded to bore her with stories of college and home. I´m sure from that show she got a great impression of my home town, but whatever. It was all pretty silly, but anything that brings back good memories of places and things at home are more than welcome. Even if they are car jacking trannies from Pomona.
That said, I was ready for a nice taste of America. Good thing one of my favorite punk bands, Rise Against, is in town. I´ve seen them before in San Diego with some great friends. It was such a fun road trip, and concert that there´s no way I´m missing this show. Of course, I´m lazy and forget to buy tickets. So the night of the concert I show up, and pay an extra five bucks to the bouncer, and sneak in. The opening bands are actually tolerable, and when the main attraction comes on the crowd is really pumped up. I´ve been to a bunch of concerts, but these kids are really crazy for this band. So, like any good American I jump right into the mosh pit, and yell all the lyrics at the top of my lung along with everybody else. After about the third song I pat my pocket and realize some really bad news. My camera is gone. I was wearing jeans in which the camera has never fallen out before, so I´m guessing it got stolen in the action. Who knows, but what´s certain is there is no way of getting it, or more importantly any of my pictures back. Fuck. Only thing I can do is enjoy the great show, and take out some frustration jumping around in the pit. It definitely works, because I´ve come to peace with my camera being gone. I was pretty pissed for a while, but looking at the bright side, I saved a ton of great pics on this blog and people tag me all the time in pictures on facebook. Also, now I get to go back to traveling the way I love. Without a camera in front of my face trying to capture a memory I´m already trying to memorize in my head. So I feel it´s not the worst loss, but it´s still frustrating about the pictures. Oh well, shit happens. Anyway, the show was fucking great and since I didn´t let it bother me too much, I had an amazing time. The band played great, played new songs, and it was loud and rowdy where I watched the show twenty feet from the band. Then in true concert style, I got a knock off tee shirt on the way out and walked home sweaty and tired. It was fucking great to get my taste of English speaking American culture. That should hopefully hold me over for a while.
After arriving to Buenos Aires, I immidiately felt at home. I knew I was going to like this place. It´s dubbed the ´Paris of the South´ which I think is a pretty apt description. Aside from the generally friendly people (Parisians are notoriously rude) and incredibly tall buildings everywhere, there are a lot of similaritites. Like the great food (sandwiches!), coffee culture, public transit, and high desinity living. And from what I remember when I visited Paris a few years ago, I loved it. Therefore, in a place where I can (well almost, I guess) speak the language, and know a bunch of great people, I know I should be content here for a few months.
A couple of weeks ago in the early afternoon heat, I get into a hostel looking for a party or a few new friends to meet and hit the city. It was a long lonely week on the road. I was stoked to be around people again, but the hostel I stayed at sucked. I don´t know how it happened, but everybody in this particular hostel was kind of unfriendly. Wierd, but I´ve met so many people that live here, that I just hit up some old mates and we grab a drink the next night. It was nice and low key, but they clue me in on how they got jobs and an apartment in the city. The plan starts developing, and the next step is to get out of a hostel and save some money by couchsurfing.
I don´t know if I´ve said it before, but couchsurfing.org is the best website on the internet. If you like to travel you should be on it. Really, I´ve met so many wonderful people through that website that I can´t begin to compliment it. Anyhow, once in Buenos I hit up a few surfers, thinking I´ll have to move around for a few weeks, before I can find an apartment and settle down for a bit. Again, I get incredibly lucky when the first surfers I hit up turn out to be totally awesome people. I was greeted with an ice cold beer on a hot humid afternoon, and all three of us hit it off immediately. I originally asked to stay for three days, but after a couple of weeks, I´m still living with them. I don´t even know how I managed that because I killed thier cat. Ok, not really, but thier long hair persian cat did commit suicide. The official story is that Duncan the cat watched a pigeon from the kitchen window. Then at one point jumped out of the window, caught the bird, and fell twelve stories to his death. It was a pretty hectic morning searching for him, and investigating the crime scene.Ultimately the sad truth was discovered, and miraculously Mariana and Sol took the news rather well. They are truly fabulous and geneours people. Even today after my first real day of working a graveyard shift. They brought me home a giant cheese burger from Burger King. How fucking nice! Just incredible people. Not to mention funny, witty, and all around delightful to be around. I have no idea how I´m going to thank them when I leave. What a great network for giving me an avenue to meet such cool people.
Alright, so the original plan when comming here was to get a job, because honestly I`ve had so much fun that I blew all my money. I had already made the decision that I´m not ready to come home yet, because really it´s like as soon as I start looking at plane flights, fun time is over. I´ve got to go back to California, get a job, find an apartment, blah blah blah. Fuck that, that´ll happen in a few months when I´m so home sick and broke, I´m forced to take my claws out of this continent and retreat. So intermitienly between naps, tv, and poking around with my guitar. I do look for jobs, and somehow successfully landed one. Thanks again to craisgslit, I found a job working nights at a little hostel nearby. It´s pretty chill job. I work the graveyard shift, so the hardest part is keeping myself entertained when nobody is around. I was describing it to my dad, and I told him that I´ll work for three nights at about seven to nine hours and I´ll make almost exactly as much money as I would working two hours at my old engineering job. I think it´s hillarious, it really puts things into a great culture perspective. But really it is an unfair comparison, because rent isn´t a thousand dollars a month, and I´m not working my ass off nearly fifty hours a week. At least I´ve got some income now, but it´s not enough to survive. I was basically relying on my tax return in hopes that I´ll get a lot of the taxes I paid back. After plenty of bitching, my old company finally sends the paperwork to the correct address. I was able to do my taxes, and it´s great fucking news. Since I only worked three quarters of the year I dropped down a few brackets, and I´m getting enough of my money back to go to Brazil. I´m so stoked! Thanks Uncle Sam! It was so relieved.
After being gone for so long, I´ve become homesick plenty of times. I really do miss family and friends the most, but there´s a lot I miss about my own culture. Burritos, burgers, sushi, and pho are pretty high on the list too, but there are plenty of other things. Like local live music, driving in a familiar place, my favorite bar: The Press, more food, and living in a place where I can zip to the mountians, big city, or beach all within a few hours drive. I remember in La Paz I was watching ´Cops´ on TV, and I was stoked when they pulled over some cross dressing car thief on the 10 freeway right near where I went to college. I was hanging with Teresa at the time and was like "yeah! I used to drive that freeway everyday! And I used to live just on the other side of those bushes in the dorms!" Then proceeded to bore her with stories of college and home. I´m sure from that show she got a great impression of my home town, but whatever. It was all pretty silly, but anything that brings back good memories of places and things at home are more than welcome. Even if they are car jacking trannies from Pomona.
That said, I was ready for a nice taste of America. Good thing one of my favorite punk bands, Rise Against, is in town. I´ve seen them before in San Diego with some great friends. It was such a fun road trip, and concert that there´s no way I´m missing this show. Of course, I´m lazy and forget to buy tickets. So the night of the concert I show up, and pay an extra five bucks to the bouncer, and sneak in. The opening bands are actually tolerable, and when the main attraction comes on the crowd is really pumped up. I´ve been to a bunch of concerts, but these kids are really crazy for this band. So, like any good American I jump right into the mosh pit, and yell all the lyrics at the top of my lung along with everybody else. After about the third song I pat my pocket and realize some really bad news. My camera is gone. I was wearing jeans in which the camera has never fallen out before, so I´m guessing it got stolen in the action. Who knows, but what´s certain is there is no way of getting it, or more importantly any of my pictures back. Fuck. Only thing I can do is enjoy the great show, and take out some frustration jumping around in the pit. It definitely works, because I´ve come to peace with my camera being gone. I was pretty pissed for a while, but looking at the bright side, I saved a ton of great pics on this blog and people tag me all the time in pictures on facebook. Also, now I get to go back to traveling the way I love. Without a camera in front of my face trying to capture a memory I´m already trying to memorize in my head. So I feel it´s not the worst loss, but it´s still frustrating about the pictures. Oh well, shit happens. Anyway, the show was fucking great and since I didn´t let it bother me too much, I had an amazing time. The band played great, played new songs, and it was loud and rowdy where I watched the show twenty feet from the band. Then in true concert style, I got a knock off tee shirt on the way out and walked home sweaty and tired. It was fucking great to get my taste of English speaking American culture. That should hopefully hold me over for a while.
Monday, March 7, 2011
2/17/2011 - Buenos Aires, Argentina: Walking Uphill
Captain's log February 13th, 2011. Location: Piedra Buena, Argentina. Today's activities: ate, drove motorcycle straight for a number of hours, ate again, gassed up a few times, then went to bed.
As you can probably tell from that awful first paragraph, the days where I´m driving in desolate Patagonia are long and boring. The distances are vast and the towns are small and rural.The only thing this land has going for it is the nature. Otherwise this place would suck and be overpriced. Luckily for the residents, the outdoors are simply stunning during the summer months. I´ve gotten a good chance to see it while driving through and even (gasp!) taking some long distance hikes.
While in Ushuaia, I met some very cool Argintinian guys at my hostel. That night I join them in the kitchen and learn the sacred art of drinking beer and making empanadas. After they´re cooked and being served up, we make a bunch of new friends. It´s surprising how fast you can win new friends with little fried doughy pockets of awesome. As our table is filling up everyone is invited on an overnight hike through Tierra Del Fuego national park. Like usual, I´ve got nothing planned, so I accept the invitation and begrudgingly wake up early the next morning to embark. The group is now up to nine people: four wild Argentinian dudes, three responsible and friendly Israeli girls, one super fun Swiss guy, and one unprepared American.
The Israeli girls are smart and well prepared for the trek. They´ve bought enough food and got a map of our route. It´s a fifteen mile (25k) hike split between two days. It doesn´t sound so bad. As we leave around eleven, I´m thinking we´ll be there relaxing at camp around five. Not exactly what happened, because as a large group we need to take plenty of snack and tea breaks. Whatever, I love snacks and tea, so I don´t mind the frequent stops. We do need to get to camp, so we all decide to hurry up at the hardest and steepest part. Then some funny shit starts happening. Poor Nikolas fell and got caught on a cable crossing on this shady river bridge. He was a bit bruised up, but generally ok. The best part was Josiah caught it all on tape. We must have watched that thing laughing hysterically maybe twenty, thirty times.Then German slips and falls into a river getting himself and his sleeping bag wet in the process. Ouch, going to be a cold night. Then as the trail steeply declines I go knee high into mud. Thank goodness for my absurdly high motorcycle boots. Of course a few people fall down, (always funny) and one poor German girl we met along the way got caught into some deep mud. It was like quicksand dragging her down. But eventually we all successfully make it to camp at Laguna del Caminante. We set up camp, and since it´s bitterly cold. We all gather some wood and proceed to make a huge bonfire right in front of the "no fires" sign. (That´s right, I like to live dangerously.) The fire is hot and comforting, so we all pull up stumps or logs and bond for hours over nature´s TV.
The next morning. I´m somehow one of the first people up. I see an adorable little fox hanging around the campsite, so I chase it and snap a few photos. Little did I know, that bastard stole our breakfast. Later we find our milk and salami missing with the fox nowhere to be found. What a douche. I guess putting the food under the tent´s rain fly wasn´t enough. Oh well, in eight hours we´ll all be home and we can eat whatever we want. Too bad we have to go over a mountain and a whole forest full of fallen trees. After only six hours (felt like twelve) we all make it back to the main road and call a cab home. Thank goodness that was over. I mean it was some wonderful nature, and the campsite and company were fantastic, but in motorcycle boot and a shitty little backpack I was happy to be off my feet for a bit. Three short days later, I left on a four day, fifty mile (85k) trek through Chile´s jewel national park: Torres Del Paine. I don´t think I´ll ever know just what the fuck I was thinking.
It took two long days to reach Puerto Natales, Chile from Ushuaia, but when I meet up with my old pals from the earlier trek, it makes it all worthwhile. We spend a night and a day farting around the little city trying to get a game plan for the hike. The Israelis are again responsible (must be all that army training) and attend a hour lecture on what´s in store. The lecture is in Hebrew, so I take it upon myself to find some other Americans and start pregaming for the Superbowl. My plan works excellent. I get to watch Ben Rapelessberger and the Steelers go down before I start packing. I know it´s four days long, but figure it´s some walking and a lot of downtime camping. So I don´t bother asking many questions. I just follow the pack and load up on the bus.
It´s a couple hours by bus and boat, but we all make it to camp number one. We set up camp and then hit our first trail. The hike is called the "W" because it´s roughly that shape on the map. (It looks more like a saggy ass, but that´s not really an appealing name.) Anyway, the main draw is the impressive glaciers,lakes, and cool rock formations. Four hours later the group has somewhat split up because some members are more psyched then others. At the mid point, I get a fantastic view of my first glacier. It´s nice to take a break, and have a laugh at some poor kid who fell part way into the frozen lake. I eventually get down to the lake to eat some glacier ice (high quality h2o) and throw rocks at bigger pieces of ice. We all enjoy the fruit of our first days hike, then turn right back around and head back to camp. During the walk back I come to the realization that this is a hard core hike for those well prepared tourist adorned head to toe in North Face gear, carrying two hundred dollar walking sticks, and eating only lightweight military rations and power bars. Looks like my ripped jeans, motorcycle boots, and borrowed backpack made for a midget will just have to do. I make it back to camp at dusk just after ten.
Day two starts off at six thirty in the morning, and is much the same as the previous day. Lots of walking, but new fabulous nature. It turns out to be the of the easiest and therefore least spectacular day. Then comes grueling day three. Fuck. It´s about thirteen hours of hiking with a fully loaded backpack. Luckily the weather is nice and hot, so I take a much needed bath in the lake. (BTW glacier water is cold.) Then at lunch time after an extremely delicious lunch of crackers and tuna. (Sarcasm) I enjoy a nap riverside in the sunshine. As I´m groggily waking up, I see a random familiar face. It´s Arielle! What are the chances? This is the fifth country we´ve met up in. I just fucking love random fate. So we chat and catch up for a bit, but as we´re walking in different directions we hug and say farewell yet again. Maybe I´ll see her in Brazil.
Only six more hours of walking uphill until we get to camp. It´s a good thing I love walking uphill. (If only I could do it on the way back too!) Apparently I looked uncomfortable, because Doron offers some help by saying the backpack I have probably adjusts for height. So at the next stop, I´m able to adjust it from five foot little girl to six foot man. What a difference! I get some new energy as I feel I can cartwheel and hurdle mountains with the new fit and comfort. Too bad, there´s only like four total hours of carrying it left since the trips almost over. Anyhow, camp is actually set up in the daylight and dinner is cooked up early. Then since everyone is obviously pooped; we all easily drift to sleep awaiting the grand finale the following day.
Somehow everybody wake up on time at three thirty in the morning. It´s a steep one hour walk in the dark to reach the Torres (towers) Del Paine. It´s stunning to watch the sun rise and watch the monstrous rocks change colors. It definitely made the whole hike worthwhile. Afterwards, I´m surprised to discover that the Israelis didn´t think it was spectacular enough. Apparently in the prep talk, they were told that the colors were supposed to be more vivid and awesome in the morning sun. Totally shocked I decide to stay with a few survivors to see it again the following morning. I guess those crazy chicks were right because the following day as I´m sleeping and avoiding the cold wind. I´m awoken by oohs and aahs. Those huge rocks are legitimately golden in the morning light. Truly amazing. I´m glad I stayed the extra day.
Once back to civilization, we all enjoy a healthy portion of cookies, pringles, and chocolate milk.We were all so happy to eat something besides tuna, rice, or soup. Later that night, we all gorge out on some homemade Jewish dishes then partake in some excellent Chilean wine as a reward for completing one crazy ass hike.
Sadly (like always though) I´ve got to leave my new friends and book it to Buenos Aires. So we all say our goodbyes with hopes of reuniting later in the capital. I´m essentially out of money, (come on, uncle Sam!) so I´ve got to get some place where I can land a job and hopefully relax for a bit. Buenos Aires sounds like the right place, so I start the fifteen hundred mile (2,800k) journey early and plan on making the straight boring shot right there in hopefully about five days.
The riding at first is really tough, because of the high winds. It feels like I´ve got the bike leaned over to thirty degrees just to bear straight in the sixty mile an hour side wind. Then there are the trucks that roll by every minute. If I forget to duck under my tiny windshield, I get slammed with a huge wake of wind. It snaps my head back and pushes me to the edge of the road. Scary shit when, you´re trying to do anything to escape the awful boredom of the long straight drive. It was a constant battle, but after two days the wind eventually died down. Thanks goodness for that, but too bad there are still three boring ass days left. In the five days the scenery changed exactly twice, and every town (except Puerto Madryn) looked the same. Some runned down shitty version of Barstow. Though I would have stabbed a puppy for Barstow. At least they have an In-N-Out. Eventually after plenty of roadside naps, shady campsites, and plenty of boring hours singing and talking to myself on the bike. I do in fact make it to the big city. It´s time to settle down, get a job, and take a much needed pause from this crazy ass adventure.
As you can probably tell from that awful first paragraph, the days where I´m driving in desolate Patagonia are long and boring. The distances are vast and the towns are small and rural.The only thing this land has going for it is the nature. Otherwise this place would suck and be overpriced. Luckily for the residents, the outdoors are simply stunning during the summer months. I´ve gotten a good chance to see it while driving through and even (gasp!) taking some long distance hikes.
While in Ushuaia, I met some very cool Argintinian guys at my hostel. That night I join them in the kitchen and learn the sacred art of drinking beer and making empanadas. After they´re cooked and being served up, we make a bunch of new friends. It´s surprising how fast you can win new friends with little fried doughy pockets of awesome. As our table is filling up everyone is invited on an overnight hike through Tierra Del Fuego national park. Like usual, I´ve got nothing planned, so I accept the invitation and begrudgingly wake up early the next morning to embark. The group is now up to nine people: four wild Argentinian dudes, three responsible and friendly Israeli girls, one super fun Swiss guy, and one unprepared American.
The Israeli girls are smart and well prepared for the trek. They´ve bought enough food and got a map of our route. It´s a fifteen mile (25k) hike split between two days. It doesn´t sound so bad. As we leave around eleven, I´m thinking we´ll be there relaxing at camp around five. Not exactly what happened, because as a large group we need to take plenty of snack and tea breaks. Whatever, I love snacks and tea, so I don´t mind the frequent stops. We do need to get to camp, so we all decide to hurry up at the hardest and steepest part. Then some funny shit starts happening. Poor Nikolas fell and got caught on a cable crossing on this shady river bridge. He was a bit bruised up, but generally ok. The best part was Josiah caught it all on tape. We must have watched that thing laughing hysterically maybe twenty, thirty times.Then German slips and falls into a river getting himself and his sleeping bag wet in the process. Ouch, going to be a cold night. Then as the trail steeply declines I go knee high into mud. Thank goodness for my absurdly high motorcycle boots. Of course a few people fall down, (always funny) and one poor German girl we met along the way got caught into some deep mud. It was like quicksand dragging her down. But eventually we all successfully make it to camp at Laguna del Caminante. We set up camp, and since it´s bitterly cold. We all gather some wood and proceed to make a huge bonfire right in front of the "no fires" sign. (That´s right, I like to live dangerously.) The fire is hot and comforting, so we all pull up stumps or logs and bond for hours over nature´s TV.
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| Excellent excellent people. |
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| Tea and snack break. Score! |
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| Great people in a great place. |
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| A little "Into the wild" at the other side of the planet. |
It took two long days to reach Puerto Natales, Chile from Ushuaia, but when I meet up with my old pals from the earlier trek, it makes it all worthwhile. We spend a night and a day farting around the little city trying to get a game plan for the hike. The Israelis are again responsible (must be all that army training) and attend a hour lecture on what´s in store. The lecture is in Hebrew, so I take it upon myself to find some other Americans and start pregaming for the Superbowl. My plan works excellent. I get to watch Ben Rapelessberger and the Steelers go down before I start packing. I know it´s four days long, but figure it´s some walking and a lot of downtime camping. So I don´t bother asking many questions. I just follow the pack and load up on the bus.
It´s a couple hours by bus and boat, but we all make it to camp number one. We set up camp and then hit our first trail. The hike is called the "W" because it´s roughly that shape on the map. (It looks more like a saggy ass, but that´s not really an appealing name.) Anyway, the main draw is the impressive glaciers,lakes, and cool rock formations. Four hours later the group has somewhat split up because some members are more psyched then others. At the mid point, I get a fantastic view of my first glacier. It´s nice to take a break, and have a laugh at some poor kid who fell part way into the frozen lake. I eventually get down to the lake to eat some glacier ice (high quality h2o) and throw rocks at bigger pieces of ice. We all enjoy the fruit of our first days hike, then turn right back around and head back to camp. During the walk back I come to the realization that this is a hard core hike for those well prepared tourist adorned head to toe in North Face gear, carrying two hundred dollar walking sticks, and eating only lightweight military rations and power bars. Looks like my ripped jeans, motorcycle boots, and borrowed backpack made for a midget will just have to do. I make it back to camp at dusk just after ten.
Day two starts off at six thirty in the morning, and is much the same as the previous day. Lots of walking, but new fabulous nature. It turns out to be the of the easiest and therefore least spectacular day. Then comes grueling day three. Fuck. It´s about thirteen hours of hiking with a fully loaded backpack. Luckily the weather is nice and hot, so I take a much needed bath in the lake. (BTW glacier water is cold.) Then at lunch time after an extremely delicious lunch of crackers and tuna. (Sarcasm) I enjoy a nap riverside in the sunshine. As I´m groggily waking up, I see a random familiar face. It´s Arielle! What are the chances? This is the fifth country we´ve met up in. I just fucking love random fate. So we chat and catch up for a bit, but as we´re walking in different directions we hug and say farewell yet again. Maybe I´ll see her in Brazil.
Only six more hours of walking uphill until we get to camp. It´s a good thing I love walking uphill. (If only I could do it on the way back too!) Apparently I looked uncomfortable, because Doron offers some help by saying the backpack I have probably adjusts for height. So at the next stop, I´m able to adjust it from five foot little girl to six foot man. What a difference! I get some new energy as I feel I can cartwheel and hurdle mountains with the new fit and comfort. Too bad, there´s only like four total hours of carrying it left since the trips almost over. Anyhow, camp is actually set up in the daylight and dinner is cooked up early. Then since everyone is obviously pooped; we all easily drift to sleep awaiting the grand finale the following day.
Somehow everybody wake up on time at three thirty in the morning. It´s a steep one hour walk in the dark to reach the Torres (towers) Del Paine. It´s stunning to watch the sun rise and watch the monstrous rocks change colors. It definitely made the whole hike worthwhile. Afterwards, I´m surprised to discover that the Israelis didn´t think it was spectacular enough. Apparently in the prep talk, they were told that the colors were supposed to be more vivid and awesome in the morning sun. Totally shocked I decide to stay with a few survivors to see it again the following morning. I guess those crazy chicks were right because the following day as I´m sleeping and avoiding the cold wind. I´m awoken by oohs and aahs. Those huge rocks are legitimately golden in the morning light. Truly amazing. I´m glad I stayed the extra day.
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| Some much needed relaxing on day two |
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| Fighting the wind for a slightly better view. |
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| Meditation with Leo near the Glacier. |
Sadly (like always though) I´ve got to leave my new friends and book it to Buenos Aires. So we all say our goodbyes with hopes of reuniting later in the capital. I´m essentially out of money, (come on, uncle Sam!) so I´ve got to get some place where I can land a job and hopefully relax for a bit. Buenos Aires sounds like the right place, so I start the fifteen hundred mile (2,800k) journey early and plan on making the straight boring shot right there in hopefully about five days.
The riding at first is really tough, because of the high winds. It feels like I´ve got the bike leaned over to thirty degrees just to bear straight in the sixty mile an hour side wind. Then there are the trucks that roll by every minute. If I forget to duck under my tiny windshield, I get slammed with a huge wake of wind. It snaps my head back and pushes me to the edge of the road. Scary shit when, you´re trying to do anything to escape the awful boredom of the long straight drive. It was a constant battle, but after two days the wind eventually died down. Thanks goodness for that, but too bad there are still three boring ass days left. In the five days the scenery changed exactly twice, and every town (except Puerto Madryn) looked the same. Some runned down shitty version of Barstow. Though I would have stabbed a puppy for Barstow. At least they have an In-N-Out. Eventually after plenty of roadside naps, shady campsites, and plenty of boring hours singing and talking to myself on the bike. I do in fact make it to the big city. It´s time to settle down, get a job, and take a much needed pause from this crazy ass adventure.
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