To Funkytown and Back

I got a tattoo two years ago. It's the word "be" written in lowercase letters in my handwriting on the inside of my wrist. The idea is that it is the simplest form of existing. It's there to remind me that wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, however I'm feeling is exactly as it should be. It's a reminder not to worry too much about what happened yesterday or what's going to happen tomorrow. The most important thing it represents for me is to truly live in every moment. Because this moment is the only one I have.

I was in a bit of a funk my first day here for reasons I can't explain or make sense of, and I was mentally struggling. Every day on the road will not be perfect. Even though I'm in the most beautiful places in the world, living life my way, I'm still going to struggle sometimes. Sometimes so many intense experiences gets overwhelming and my mind starts working overtime. I start to panic about my life. And while most of the time I am able to live it and go with the flow, sometimes I let my overthinking mind run away. It's these such moments when I'm supposed to look down at my wrist, see that word, calm down and be reminded that I don't need to figure it all out right now.  But sometimes I forget, and that's when I'm most thankful for the people in my life who know me best and can bring me back down to earth. Thanks to Bianca for doing that over gchat this week. I took a deep breath, got my head out of my ass, and went to the beach to enjoy myself.

In other news, I was once told I was a really good sleeper. This hypothesis was tested and proven when I slept approximately 22 hours of my 28-hour bus ride this week. Full cama seats are boss.

I still struggle with the 24-hour way of telling time. I thought our bus arrived at 11:40pm on Wednesday, and was pleasantly surprised when we got to Bariloche 4 hours early. Turns out I was wrong. 19:40 is 7:40. Bus was right on time.

I have abandoned looking up every word I don't understand in 100 Years of Solitude. If I keep doing that it's going to take me 100 years to read the book. I am actually understanding and enjoying it without my dictionary.

Today I went hiking, taking the road less traveled. I'm not saying that to be cute. I climbed up the steep hills to the lookout, and sort of lost the trail on the way back down leading me to literally walk/run/slide straight down the side of the mountain. I got down almost three times faster than it took me to climb up.

lake

new friend Rob sitting in the only free spot on the bus, the windshield

family steak dinner at the hostel

view from my hike today...perfection

dirty shoes

watching the sunset

my very scratched pov

sunset on the water 

Glacier Watching...Boy Watching

In Argentina, the men are beautiful.

Oops, I mean the country is beautiful. But also, seriously, there are some really good looking men. Many creepy ones as well, but I'm focusing on the positive here.

I arrived in Calafate Friday afternoon more hungry than I have ever been in my life. Having spent the last of my Chilean pesos on scissors to butcher my hair I had no food or money for the 5-hour bus ride. As we pulled into town I could feel myself getting crankier. Then I remembered the left-over instant oatmeal in my bag from Torres del Paine. Picture it. Rolling into a new town excited about all that Argentina has to offer, shoving handfuls of dry oatmeal in my face like eating is going out of style. Nothing but class, and a sure way to get handsome men to notice you.

Not only did I fall in love with my hostel, a big farmhouse situated on a hill overlooking Calafate and Lake Argentino, but also with the boys who work there, the hostel pets, and their varied music collection. That's a lot of love at first sight. I felt immediately at home and decided to stay a few days longer than originally planned.  Moving around so much over the past 5 weeks has left me craving some form of normalcy. Packing and unpacking every day or two is stressful, and this trip should be the opposite of stress. I just can't do and see everything and keep my sanity. Woe is me, huh?

Since dry oatmeal isn't that satiating, I went to the store in a hungry stupor and bought a pointless mix of groceries. I just can't always have it all together. And someday I will learn to make lists before grocery shopping because this happens more often than not. Friday night I got my first taste of Argentine Asado, eating so much meat I could hardly breathe. These people know what they're doing. I spent all day Saturday exploring the city, chillaxing, reading and listening to really good music. I'm actually making progress reading 100 Anos de Soledad even if it takes me an entire day to read each chapter.

Sunday afternoon I took the bus to Parque Nacional Los Glaciers to check out Perito Moreno. I have never seen something so magnificent. It felt like I was looking at a diarama in a museum. It just didn't seem real. We took the boat ride to get closer to the glacier, but found the views from the passageways above much more enticing. We sat for hours in different areas listening to the loud thunder-esque cracking sounds as pieces of the glacier broke off. We watched in excitement and anticipation, as huge chunks separated, crashing into the water below, entertained by the cheering crowd.

Saturday night despite extreme exhaustion I headed out to a local bohemian bar for some live music, a hand-drumming band led by a guy from Senegal. Took me back to my Central Park drum circle days. It was amazing, and I felt like we discovered a secret being that my two companions and I were the only gringos in attendance. Glaciers, secrets, and drums. Sunday was a good day.

I fear the South American nightlife will kill me. Going out at 2 in the morning is considered to be on the early side, and the party doesn't end until at least 7 or 8. I don't know how they do it, or if I can hack it. I managed to stay out until 5 and 6 respectively the last two nights, but I'm destroyed today.

Overstaying in Calafate was just what I needed to recharge my travel battery, though I forgot to sleep because I was enjoying it so much. Not a bad thing, but I'm Looking forward to my 28-hour bus ride to Bariloche to catch up.

view from the bus from Chile to Argentina

pimped-out compact cars on display in Calafate

pet sheep who got lucky that they didn't eat him as originally planned

first views of Perito Moreno

from above

the dark blue spot in the middle is where a huge piece had just fallen

Juliet and I taking it all in

Torres del Paine

Sometimes you get reality checks. Sometimes you have experiences that are hard to put into words. With that being said, I've decided to blog this experience in 105 words below...

Long Underwear. Solitude. Nature. Backpack. Rain. Sunshine. Mountains. Lakes. Oatmeal with blackberry jam. Exhaustion. Water. Trekking poles. Carbohydrates. Trashbag waterproofing. Respect. Dried fruit and nuts. Challenge. Beauty. Snow. Climbing. Mounds of toilet paper. Flooded camp sites. Inspiration. Trees. Silence. Layers. Coffee. Shoulders. River crossings. Conversations. Discovery. Discipline. Campground worker infatuation. Scenery. Snot rockets. Leg warmers. Meditation. Headlamp. Fluffy clouds. Moon. Landscapes. Reflection. Giggles. Amazement. Victory. Unpredictability. Showerless. Mud. Glaciers. Towers. Climbing. Fresh water. Picking berries. Knowledge. Acquaintances. Conservation. Trails. Happiness. Outdoors. Rain fly. Chills. Letting go. Sleeping bag. Outdoor toilets. Pack in-pack out. Simplicity. Blue Skies. Starlight. Humbled. Adventure. Perfection. Four days, same outfit.

trying to sort out all my gear

on the bus ready to go listening to pump up jams in my new thermal wear

first views on the hike

after we got busted trying to hike up to the "forbidden" campsite in the pissing rain

my poor tent on day 2 - notice the slick soakedness of my backpack

caked in mud

climbing up to the towers

almost there - don't I look professional in all my gear with my new trekking poles?

ah-mazing. doesn't even look real

valley hike views

dinner time - Kary and Isaac

sunshine and blue skies

a yellow me in my tent - so so so exhausted and right before i ate spaghetti that tasted like throw up

relaxing and maxing on the last afternoon

Add caption

if i had a job right now, i wouldn't want it to be cleaning this

Our Team

final views

moonshine

In other news. I tried out my bang-cutting skills that Bianca tried to teach me in NYC in the fall. I spent my last Chilean pesos on a pair of hair cutting scissors. I was going for the long side bang look. Needless to say I failed miserably, and am now sporting super-chunky, uneven, short bangs. You can't win 'em all.

Forget jet-setting. I am bus-setting.

I loved my time on the farm. My days there were some of the most relaxing in my life. Being surrounded by social conversational Spanish for a week has improved my skills, and now I can speak with a little more ease, and less formality. Serious shout-out to the Cariola family for welcoming me at the farm, being patient with my Spanish, and making me fatter. I love them.

My last day on the farm was magical. I had breakfast with Pati and Moni as usual, then headed down to the lake to try to buy a plane ticket using Max’s computer. No dice as they don’t accept US credit cards online. So instead I parked myself beside the lake, soaked up some sun, went for a swim, then a spin in the kayak. No one else was around, and it was my own private paradise. We had a lovely lunch outside at the picnic tables again, and I ended my day siesta-ing and a walking around the farm.

My walk around the farm consisted of talking to the cows, talking to myself, attempting to climb a tree, breaking a branch I thought could hold my weight and almost breaking my arm, making blog videos, laughing because I am so damn funny when I am talking to myself, succeed in climbing a tree, took pictures with my cow friends, and finally watched the sun disappear over the hills. I am such good company.

I don’t ever need to think about finding myself a boyfriend or husband. Seems there are plenty of other people who are worrying about this for me, specifically my new big friends Sally, Moni, and Pati. I think it’s sweet. Moni wants to introduce me to her nephew who lives in Santiago. Pati is going to introduce me to her friend’s son in Buenos Aires even though she is not sure he “wants to fall in love”. Sally just told me when I left: I hope your travels are fantastic, and that you find yourself a nice boyfriend. If it’s up to these women, it’ll eventually be taken care of.

I am on the move again after 7 perfect days of leisure at the farm. I left yesterday morning at 12:30 with Pati and Moni, who saw me off at the bus station. I’m seriously going to miss those two. They proved that in friendship, age ain't nothin' but a number. They hugged and kissed me, wished me safe travels, and waved until the bus turned the corner and I couldn’t see them anymore.

I took an hour-long bus ride from Entre Lagos to Osorno, where I lugged my backpack to the Sky Airlines office. The office was closed for siesta. So I lugged my bags around for another two hours, wandering in and out of shops, hopefully shedding some of the weight I gained at the farm as I sweat in the sweltering heat, cursing my decision to wear jeans. At 3pm the office opened, I bought my flight to Punta Arenas and caught a bus to Puerto Montt. Once in PM I quickly stopped to send my parents and email to tell them I am alive, booked a hostel for the night, then jumped another bus to the airport. This is how you travel by the seat-of-your-pants with no pre-made plans. At the airport at 1 am I caught another bus to my hostel. I am a transportation master. Best part - when I arrived at the hostel I was the only person in my room. Score another for me.

This afternoon I took one more bus from Punta Arenas to Puerto Natales. My eyelids were heavy with sleep, but I didn't want to miss the landscape, so I stayed awake, chatting with my sweaty Chilean seat mate, Peter. Poor guy, the heater under his seat was on, and he was roasting. He asked me, like many others do, why I am traveling, why I quit my job, what I'm going to do next. I struggled to find the words in Spanish to answer him, and later when I reached the hostel, found this quote. I'm going to laminate it in English and Spanish and put it in my wallet. Every time someone asks me this question I will show it to them...

"Traveling is hard. Anyone who says different isn't a traveler; they're a tourist. A traveler's life and their trip are one in the same, living life while traveling rather than taking a vacation from life."

I have been trying to express this sentiment for the last 3 months, and now there it is.

Tomorrow I will run around all day renting and buying gear for my 6-day hike in Torres del Paine. To say I am excited would be an extreme understatement. Just the scenery at the edge of town here is enough to bring you to tears it's so beautiful. I can't imagine what I'm about to see.

Gear is mad-important. At times the winds in the parks can get up to 120km/hr. That's serious. And even in summer the weather is beyond unpredictable. You have to be ready for everything. And by tomorrow at this time, I will be.