We Were Never Supposed to Get Here

Tired, cold and ready for some sunlight, Amanda and gradually worked our way north from the bottom of the world Patagonia up to Buenos Aires. Our first stop past the Argentinian border was San Carlos de Bariloche - a touristy ski-village littered with shops selling either North Face fleeces or famous chocolate bon bons. The city was quaint, the people were friendly, but we were still cold. After a day of wandering the streets and enjoying a delectable salmon dinner and our first (of what was to become many) bottles of Malbec wine to honor our 6 month travel anniversary, we once again packed our bags and headed the 20 hours north to Mendoza.

Mendoza is known across the globe for its viticulture, produces 70% of Argentinian wine, and is especially known for its Malbec - an almost violet in color, intense vino tinto, red wine. With Malbec being the key to Amanda's heart and with my recent conversion from a white to a red drinker, it was simply out of the question not to go to the vino tinto capital of the world.

The city of Mendoza is clean, pretty and the streets are covered not by chocolate shoppes but rather with wine paraphernalia. Yet it is not the busy streets and cars that attract visitors to the region, but the hundreds of wineries that are found just half an hour outside the city limits in the beautiful spacious lowlands. Having cut our time in Buenos Aires short simply to do the highly recommended famous bicycling wine tour, we were eager to get started. Amanda and I woke up early to fit a run into our schedule before an afternoon of samplings, day-drinking and picnics. Yet as we met our new friends out front to catch the city bus to the wine town of Lujan de Cuyo, we were informed that it was Good Friday. And when in Argentina, Good Friday is more than celebrated.

It is revered. The entire city was closed down for the day. So...back to the drawing board. After 6 months of learning to dejar con fluya - go with the flow, we switched gears, bought cheese, crackers, salami, fruits, olives, guacamole (surprisingly not the girl from NM's idea), and of course Malbec and headed to the central park for an afternoon picnic and some time in the sun.

But although the picnic of Malbec was delectable, and although this was later followed by more Malbec at dinner, Amanda and I still did not feel like we had experienced the true Mendoza. And we had already bought our ticket for Buenos Aires for the following evening at 5:15 p.m. There was only one thing to do - get up extra early and fit it all in by 5 p.m. We gathered the troops, brought our breakfasts with us on the bus, and headed to the vineyards. We managed to visit 3 wineries: Terrazas, Miguel Minni, and Bonefanti, complete with tastings, bottles of wine, and no bike crashes. And we even made it to our bus in relatively good form. Success.

Just 1 bus and 20 hours later we were in Buenos Aires - the Paris of Latin America. Yet as we fell off the coach bus dazed from spotty sleep, I was not filled with the excitement and eagerness I thought I would have to see the one place I had dreamed about for months. Instead I was sad.

In October, when Amanda and I sat in our host family's kitchen in Panama and consulted our finances and a calendar we dreamed of making our trip last, if we were lucky and smart, 3 months. Maybe we could see Machu Picchu if we were frugal enough. Buenos Aires was on the top of my list of Things To Do, but it looked doubtful that we would be able to make it there with our budget.

And now here we are, over 6 months later, in the city we were never supposed to get to. Among the fast paced city of lights, ancient architecture and a modern hip vibe were two gringas confused that the end of an epic journey has finally arrived. As they say, all good things must come to an end. But when that good thing has been an entire way of life, a state of mind, and a friendship that has evolved to an intense kinship, how do you cope with the finish line?

1/2 a Year

I left October 20, 2010. And have since seen more than I had hoped to; more than I could have ever imagined possible. It wasn't rocket science to do, it just took the guts to quit everything and pack my life in one bag. And I have not regretted it for a second.

Here's to 6 months of travel:

PANAMA

COSTA RICA

NICARAGUA

HONDURAS

GUATEMALA

MEXICO

ECUADOR

PERU

CHILE

And here's to 6 more weeks in ARGENTINA!

Chile, I Like You but You Sure Confuse Me

While it is impossible to assign a single description to an entire country and silly to attempt to simplify and categorize all of the peoples of one nation, I have found that each country we stop in seems to at least have several defining features. Peruvians, from both the North and South are proud of their Incan history, and have no qualms with being identified by their biggest tourist draw – Machu Picchu. Costa Ricans are laid-back and peaceful – to the extent that they even lack a government, and they are happy to be defined by the phrase “Pura Vida” or Pure Life, for hey man surfs up. Nicaraguans are still recovering from their recent civil war and are proud of the strides they've made towards what the developed world deems as “progress.” Ecuadorians as a whole are calm, friendly, and – though to a less extent than their neighbors in Peru – still cling to their Indigenous culture.

But then there's Chile. How to define a country that stretches for over half the length of all South America, stringing length-wise for 4300km from the driest desert in the world to as far south as Antarctica? Perhaps travel writer Sara Wheeler puts it best in her book on Chile "Travels in a Thin Country": The Chileans “always wanted to know what we of the west thought of the country, and it was hard to tell them that the majority of the west never thought of them at all. I often thought that I noticed a kind of national insecurity and identity crisis. Relentless foreign influence in almost all sectors of society presumably contributed to it.”

Europeans swept into Chile in the 16th century and never left, making it the country with the most blondes and blue-eyed people that we've encountered thus far. The women are always dressed to the nines, with high heels clacking and earrings jangling, carrying shopping bags stamped with brand names from New York and Paris. And while the capitals of Ecuador and Peru have bus systems that could contend easily with those in the States, neither come close to what Chile has to brag about. The subway system of Santiago is almost identical to that of Boston, and cabs are metered. I must admit, I actually miss haggling a cab fare down to half the asking price as horns honk and weave about along unmarked Central American streets.

Speaking of, Chile even has driving regulations and stoplights! And not just in the big cities, throughout the whole country. There are malls, and for the first time in 5 months our conversations with locals have been interrupted by cell phones ringing and the habitual, imperative need to answer every call. Chile is more developed than I had ever imagined it to be. Although here I must admit, like Sara Wheeler said of most people in the west, I honestly hadn't given it much thought before arriving. But that aside, coming from Ecuador and Peru I was not prepared for this degree of capitalism, consumerism, and “development.”

So with all of this then, is Chile's identity actually confusing or is it just that I am experiencing Culture Shock while still in Latin America that is causing my inability to understand this pencil-thin country? Perhaps a little bit of both.

After struggling the first couple of days after crossing the border into Chile to get the image of my dwindling bank account out of my head every two seconds as I contended with the undeniable fact that Chile is expensive and is going to eat a chunk of change, and after realizing that – like the States – Chile's political and sociological problems lie largely behind closed walls and in matters of policy paperwork, rather than in blatantly visible poverty and crumbling infrastructure, I redefined what I wanted to take away from the country. Instead of attempting to understand the sociological problems, I decided to view Chile as an opportunity to discover its diverse natural beauty.

They say that if you take the 4300km of Chile, flip it upside down, and then lay it on a map of North America you have a mirror image. The northern region boasts of intense desert, like that of Mexico or Arizona. The middle is farmland, with rolling green hills and pastures. And the south is glaciers, snow-covered mountains and ice – perhaps similar to Alaska and Canada.

To pull from Sara Wheeler's book again, a drunk told her: “When God created the world he had a handful of everything left – mountains, deserts, lakes, glaciers – and he put it all in his pocket you see, and as God walked across heaven it all trickled out, and the long trail it made on earth was Chile.”

After 5 weeks of being in Chile, I will say that I am thoroughly impressed. Chile's environmental wonders are indeed something to brag about. And the fact that all of it can exist in one country is truly remarkable.

Yet perhaps the fact that Chile is so diverse is its virtue, but also its crutch. The country has so much to offer, yet the north barely knows the south and the same goes the other direction. Chile has a population of 17 million (U.S. = 310 million) and is collectively twice the size of California. But when everything is all so stretched out, how could there be a national identity? And because of this “identity crisis,” it is somehow much harder to see past the consumerism and capitalism that seems to plague the nation. Thus, Chile's identity seems to fall less in step with it's fellow Latin American countries and more in step with that of the States – the presence of money and the intrinsically linked constant dissatisfaction. For once you see what you can have with just a little bit more cash, how can you be happy with the old and the used you already have?

Does development then come with a price of unhappiness? If a nation progresses does it consequently follow that people will become more disgruntled? Striving for more certainly cannot be seen as a downfall or a negative. Yet how then does one contend with the sense that wealth is some tangled up with cultural dissatisfaction...

2 Girls' Trek Through the Bottom of the World

Panama in rainy season, Antarctica in winter. Our timing is simply impeccable...
~ ~ ~ ~

You guys are going where?
To Patagonia!

How?
By plane.
When?

I'm not sure. How about...tomorrow?

What will you do there?
I dunno. Hike I guess. And camp.

Do you have a tent?
No. We'll find one.

What will you wear?
I suppose we'll rent some stuff. Like a coat. Maybe some boots.

You do know it's almost winter there, right?
Oh, huh...that's interesting...

Back in Santiago, with little more than a vague notion of what "Patagonia" even is, Amanda and I booked plane tickets to Chile's final region, to the bottom of South America, to El Fin del Mundo!

Leaving the warm-weathered capital behind, we first took an overnight bus to Chile's Lake District, stopping for a brief 2 days in the small town of Puerto Varas - a South American version of Durango, Colorado. As we biked around Lake Llanquihue, we noticed that it was in fact quite cold and we patted ourselves on the back for finding wool hats at a second-hand clothing store. From Puerto Varas we then traveled further south to Puerto Montt - a town where it only took 30 minutes for both Amanda and I to enter a mild case of depression...oh hey seasonal affective disorder, it's been a while and I didn't miss you. But, with a plane booked in advance (the first time we have planned anything with more than 2 hours notice) we had no choice but to quickly leave the city of gloom.

Our plane landed in Punta Arenas, regarded as the World's Southernmost City, which lies on the Magellan Straight. Hello bottom of the world. And from there we then bused north to the Torres del Paine National Park, a UNESCO preserved park measuring 242, 242 hectares lying within the Cordillera del Paine mountain range. (Something besides the Andes? Who knew?) The landscape was formed 12 million years ago when magma peeped through a crack in Magellan's basin. Over time, sedimentary rock was pushed upwards in three giant spires dramatically reaching to the sky.

We hiked what has come to be known as the "W," a 4-5 day hike filled with brilliantly teal lakes, rolling meadows, and dramatic snow-covered peaks. We saw glaciers and ice bergs and even witnessed an avalanche. (Yes, it was phenomenal, and no, I don't think I ever need be any closer to another one. We were very far away, but oh my gosh the noise coupled with the instant stomach drop of momentary fear!)

It was 4 gorgeous days of breathing fresh, crisp air. The weather gods smiled upon us as each day progressively got better; the sun shining brightly on the last 2 days despite the cold temperatures. And the leaves were in the middle of turning brilliant reds and yellows. The park inspired such serenity that even my obnoxious heel spurs from rented boots couldn't deter from its brilliance. Pictures do it no justice and every moment I thought I couldn't possibly see something more beautiful we turned the corner to yet another postcard. Words just simply can't convey the majestic feeling of the mountains and the pure natural beauty that encompasses one when walking through the hills. Words seem to be failing and fortunately so are my photos...but here's a try at least. Click here for more photos!

21K

1:46.38

21K (13.1 miles)

Maraton de Santiago 2011

"la ciudad esta viva"

I have once again fallen in love with running.

I was carried along in a sea of 25,000 people, all running towards the same finish line, be it 10 kilometers or 21K or 42K after the starting line.

Perfect weather.

Felt fantastic.

Complete exhaustion at the end.

Thank you Santiago, for making me motivated to train again!

Lessons from an Organic Avocado Farm

Things I have learned after 2 weeks of work on an organic avocado farm:

1. The # of figs it takes to give me an incredibly painful stomach ache: 3. The # of figs I eat daily: 12.
2. Don't expect to actually work with avocados when you work on an avocado farm.
   
3. Before this endeavor I was convinced I wanted to raise my own chickens when I “grow up.” Now, I can say with 100% certainty that I am NEVER having chickens.
4. Farming is not quite what I romanticized it up to be, and there are more tedious tasks than one could imagine.
5. Pomegranates taste much better when they are free and don't cost $4 each.
6. I hate harvesting seeds more than anything in the world.
7. But I have an unhealthy obsession with weeding.
8. Making North American style chocolate chip cookies from scratch is easier said than done when in Chile. And brown sugar just doesn't exist no matter how many times you walk up and down the aisles of the main supermarket thinking it will be instantaneously imported.

Unsustainable Travel

“We humans have two great problems: the first is knowing when to begin; the second is knowing when to stop.” - Paulo Coelho

Well I apparently figured out the first problem, but the second...When do I call this trip complete? How will I know when I am supposed to fly back to the States? Why does not knowing when I will return again to Latin America make it so much harder to say goodbye?

A good friend back home sent me an email the other day that simply said:

Dear Aeriel, In case you didn't know, you have been away for a long time.

And yes, finally I am beginning to feel that I have been away for quite a while. Perhaps it is partly the fact that my hair feels unhealthy and every time I comb it I say to myself, “when I'm back home I'll buy some really good conditioner.” Or, that all of my 12 articles of clothing are currently dirty and as I sift through a calendar to see when is the next chance do find a lavanderia, I think to myself, “it sure will be nice to do laundry at home with a washing machine.” Maybe it is also the fact that it is simply exhausting to unpack and repack your backpack every single day, to sleep in a new bed every single night. And dare I say, even the hippie in me is finally realizing how nice it would be every now and then to have a phone and feel connected with my family, friends, and the world.

But whatever the reason is, I have lately been feeling further away from the rest of what I know and I am getting more excited about what lies ahead “back home” – wherever that ends up being.

As Amanda and I walked through the hills of the avocado farm at sunset the other day, we reminisced about all the ideas we have respectively come up with over the last 5 months while brainstorming how to extend our time abroad. and to continue our travels.

Here are a few of the psychotic plans we came up with while high on the travel buzz:

1. Fly from Buenos Aires to Mexico City, then backpack north all the way to Albuquerque. – Aer

2. Work as a barista at a cafe that has yet to be finished in Mal Pais, Costa Rica and become a surfer chick. – Manda

3. Live for free in our friend Al's house in Mal Pais, Costa Rica and...just get really tan. *Note: the reason we were “friends” is solely based on the fact that we gave him a lift in our (rented, shhh) 4-wheeler. – Manda & Aer

4. Work in Haiti for 2 months and then puddle jump to the Dominican Republic. – Aer (I seriously don't know where I come from sometimes.)

5. Work in a hostel or bartend in Buenos Aires. – Manda & Aer

6. Backpack solo down the west coast of Africa after finishing family vacation in Egypt. – Manda

7. Simply move to Africa. (This one didn't get much more detailed...??) – Aer

Needless to say, it should be noted that both Amanda and I have since arrived at slightly more, shall we say, sensible plans. Amanda will be returning to the States at the end of May (post family vacation in Egypt – that part wasn't made up) and will then begin grad school at American University. And, might I add, will be spending a significant chunk of her degree studying in Costa Rica! As for myself...I am surprise surprise less sure of my plans, but I am currently applying to work in Central America next year, though still holding my breath and crossing my fingers on that one.

I would not trade a second of this trip for anything, but I have learned that travel as pure travel is not sustainable – emotionally or physically. It is exhausting on the body and the spirits. For now, I have 2-3 more months, with still 3 countries left unseen. And then? I want to find my way back to Latin America, to continue to work on my Spanish speaking skills, to continue living in this amazingly beautiful culture. Yet with a deeper purpose – a longer project where I can see results and change.

So with that, here's to the future: the immediate – that still holds Patagonia and Argentina; and to the long term – that hopefully will include a longer, fulfilling project somewhere south of Mexico.

And I suppose also here's to finally, for the first time, being struck with the desire to return to the States in the near(ish) future. My hair will certainly thank me.