Corsos & Murgos & Motos

Guys, February has been one hell of a month.

Really, shout out to this entire summer. Exchange students are told that summer (for those of us in the south, anyways) is the hardest part. But for me, it was by far the best. There were days when I was bored, sure. But it was the same type of bored that I am in any given summer at home. Here, I could be bored next to a pool, which was a step up.

I did a good job of keeping busy. Or I guess I should say my host families (shout out to them too) did a good job of keeping me busy. Trips to Buenos Aires and to the beach, asados, inviting me everywhere. Not to mention my amazing friends, who I met up with at least a few times a week for dinner, pool time, even just a ronda of mate.

Exchange, of course, is filled with amazing, unforgettable moments. I guess you could say that around this time, I’ve just felt the most content across the board. I’ve finally gotten through the hard stuff, and I’ve started indulging in everything Argentina- savoring every moment because I know my return date will come all too soon.

Throughout the amazing day- to- day routine that I’ve come to love, there’s been some things that pop out to me that are definitely blog- worthy.

First off, Carnaval!

It was absolutely incredible. It was (is) an ongoing thing. Though I’m pretty sure it’s stopped here in Alberti, I think it’s still going on in bigger cities. If it’s not a full street- blocked- off, whole- town- watching event, then a local club will have corsos.

Pause- I think I need to clear something up. There were a few new words that I learned, and they’re probably pretty important to understanding all of this. Corsos are courses- each pass down the main street done by a group of dancers. And murgos- well, I don’t know if there is a translation. But it entails a group of drummers making their way along the route, banging out some super catchy tunes.

Pre- foam Jill

The main weekend of Carnaval, a four day stretch before Lent, I went twice. The first time, I went with my first host family (the second family having gone on vacation). I didn’t see much- my friends and I went to a party instead.

But the second night. Oh man, was that fun.

Everyone lines a two- block section of town (I imagine it’s substantially longer in bigger cities). The restaurants put all of their tables on the street, the pochoclo guy and the choripan vendors make a killing. The real money- maker is the foam. Sure, everyone is watching the dances and listening to the music. But they’re also slathering each other up with this fake snow stuff. Between corsos, kids run into the street, chasing each other. Moms stand at the ready with clean rags to wipe eyes off (because let me tell ya, that stuff burns), but they don’t hesitate to grab a can and join in on the fun.

The basic guide is: if you’re holding a can, you are a target. Regardless of what else you may be holding. I found that out when I tried to walk down the street with a can in one hand and my camera hanging from my neck. That was a bit tense till I found someone willing to hold it for me.

The main event is, obviously, the corsos and murgos. And for me, it was amazing to see, since I never had before. But off to the sides, there were full- out wars. Sibling rivalries, friends turning on friends, truces made and broken.

When the corsos ended, about 1 AM, things don’t slow down. On a stage in the middle of it all, a band starts playing, and everyone spills into the streets, dancing and drinking foam- sprinkled beer, trying to keep the various body parts free to do their jobs uninhibited (foam in the ears is a unique sensation).

I started out strong, my hair (yay, humidity) blocking my face from the worst of it. Before long, however, it looked about like I went home and took a shower and didn’t rinse the shampoo out. Clothes get soaked, your fingers might just be pruny, you don’t even bother trying to wipe it off anymore.

Now, there’s a strategy to all of this. Most of the time, if you see a friend in the crowd you give em a quick spray, just enough to make yourself known and have a good laugh. However, depending on the dynamics of your relationship with said “friend,” you may end up in the middle of an ambush. If you and your group are instigators, it’s smooth sailing. Make a circle, go for the eyes. Basic warfare, you know. But man, being on the receiving end is rough. You can’t see, so you can’t defend yourself- really the only way out is to run away (blindly, in a crowd, concrete on all sides), or for them to take mercy. Revenge, at that point, becomes an all consuming passion. In the long run, everyone ends up appearing more or less like a drowned rat, so it’s all good.

I was on the receiving end of an ambush more times than I’d like to admit, but I guess I deserved it; My friends and I went through about 10 cans of foam collectively, spraying with abandon.

You'll notice the positioning of my host brother's (far left) can of foam; I got sprayed approx. .3 seconds after this photo was taken. For some reason I did not see this coming.

Run out of foam? Just wipe it off of your face and onto another person!

Post- foam Jill & pals

At 4AM, things were winding down. We went to a nearby restaurant and shared an order of fries, and my friends told me that it was the best Carnaval of their lives. I'm glad they felt the same way I didn.

A downside to all of those shenanigans is that you can’t fall into bed the moment you get home. You gotta shower, which meant I went to bed at 5… and woke up at 8.

My host family and I were headed to Buenos Aires that day, to move my host sister into her new apartment. I of course fell asleep in the car. Didn’t get too long of a nap, though. About halfway to the city, the car broke down. We were #blessed, in a way, though- it rolled to a stop right next to a tollway, which meant shade, bathrooms, and chairs. What did we do while waiting for the tow truck (and host aunt with replacement car) for three hours? Drank mate, obviously.

A few hours and signed papers and new keys later, we were packing the last few things my host sister had into my host dad’s truck (another reason we were #blessed, her “last few things” filled the entire truck bed). Then we took about 10 trips up to the 9th floor in her new building.  And drank more mate. I know most of you don’t understand the mate culture (shoutout to my Argentine readers), so allow me to explain. Sharing a ronda of mate is relaxing; it’s almost impossible to angrily sip tea from a gourd. It was the perfect way to unwind from a long, stressful day.

Fast forward two weeks.

My host family and I were headed to the beach again. This time, it wasn’t just to go to the beach. This time, it was to compete. The Enduro Del Verano competition is a motocross and 4- Wheeler competition in the sand dunes, boasting the longest course in the world (12 kilometers). And it was rad.

Thursday, we drove to Villa Gesell, and spent the rest of the day just relaxing on the beach with the other families that we knew. There were a lot of shenanigans, like the kids taking turns being pulled behind a dune buggy on a boogie board, and unnecessary tackling in beach rugby.

Friday was spent at the race track. The competition had two parts: short course and long course. Friday was short course. So, our long course tickets not gaining us entrance to the bleachers, we hiked around to  a convenient sand dune and made ourselves comfortable.

Between races, we wandered around the vendor aisles. Probably would have been a lot more interesting for me if I knew anything about motocross. But it was fun anyways- there was a palpable energy in the air, an excitement from all of these people out there to support friends and family in an intense competition.

Me, clearly breaking the Rotary rules.

On Saturday, we went to the track again, but only for half the day. It was practice day for long course, a chance for the competitors to get a feel for the sand course. My host mom and I took pictures from the sand dunes, my host dad played pit- crew, and my host brother, of course, got his chance at the full course.

After eating lunch, packing everything up, and fighting the traffic back to town, I got a short siesta, and headed to the beach. We’d had a total catastrophe trying to plan it, but finally got solid plans to meet up with another exchange student. Margaret and I are from the same district at home, and have had pretty similar experiences with exchange, so it was good to have someone to talk to. I think we confused everyone in our vicinity on the beach- we drank mate and wore Argentine- style clothes, but spoke English.

She invited me out to a local club, and I of course accepted. So I showered, changed, and went out to eat with the fam, then met up with her and a friend. We went to a huge boliche, which was a treat compared to the small ones in my town.

We didn’t stay long, though; we both wanted to see the sunrise on the beach. So we caught a bus around 5, and due to being terrible at estimating sunrise times, froze our butts off at the beach for awhile. It was worth it though; absolutely stunning. At 7 we said our goodbyes, hugged three times, and I went back to the hotel.

My host brother and dad were already awake and headed to the track for race day. Thank goodness they were going early just for set- up- it afforded me two hours of sleep. By 9:30, my host mom and I were headed to the track as well.

That was a long day, but amazing. I’d never seen anything like it. Since the course was so long, they didn’t bother breaking the group up much. Everyone takes off at the same time- you can barely see through the cloud of sand they kick up. There were two heats, upwards of 300 motorcycles in each, and they go around the track 4 times. The noise is incredible. Seeing so many cyclists all go off jumps or around tight curves at the same time is like waiting for a time bomb to go off- you just know that someone’s going to fall, but you don’t know when. I made good use of my long- zoom camera (thanks, Ma!) from the stands, and got some cool shots of our little group of cyclists.

At the start

Lining up

Afterwards came the 4- wheelers, which was also ridiculously loud. Doubly so, actually, since there was only one heat. We ended up leaving that race early since we had no one to cheer for, and I could barely keep my eyes open at that point. Back at the tent, we packed up everything we could, but didn’t get to leave quite yet. Which was actually a super good thing- we had to stick around for the awards ceremony. My host brother placed 2nd out of 60 in his category, because he’s talented AF.

All of the motorcycles and 4- wheelers lined up before the race- yeah, I used panorama to fit it all.

Though I normally can’t sleep in my host dad’s truck, I was exhausted enough that I eventually faded out- with the help of a pillow stolen from my host brother. We got home at midnight, and I basically woke up long enough to walk inside the house before crashing again.

Now, I’m back with the second host family. The days are getting increasingly colder (that’s relative, it’s more like 80 degrees instead of 90), so I’m trying to soak up the last days of pool time that I have. Also gearing up for a potential trip to Mar del Plata, the first day of school, and the Rotary North Trip, all of which will happen in the next 10 days. So look forward to that in the next post!

Besos!

Bonus: A literal representation of how much mate I'm taking home with me.

Oh God It's Halfway Over :(

Seriously guys, I'm the worst at having a blog. Maybe not the worst but it's pretty bad and I'm sorry.

This one is late because I had it half written but then I lost it. I lost a file. On my own computer. Then I had no motivation to do it all again for a week, then when I looked again I ended up finding it. So basically it's a week late for no good reason. Without further ado:

After the South Trip, something happened. I have no idea why- it doesn’t make any sense- but I’m so glad it did.

The chaperones told us collectively at least a million times a day that we should be speaking Spanish; otherwise when we went back, we would be worse off than before. Not to say that the Rotarians didn’t have our best interest at heart, but that was an absolute lie (at least for me.) See, I spoke English. A lot of English. And I believed that coming back would be hard- that I’d regret those 10 easy days. Instead, it was like some switch flipped. The day I got back, I felt refreshed, rather than bogged down. Confident in my Spanish, more willing to join conversations. Maybe it was the trip itself; maybe it was taking a break from Spanish; maybe it was being around other students who spoke better and inspired me. Whatever it was, it got me out of a rut I didn’t know I had been stuck in.

From there, a lot of things just clicked for me. My (already great) relationship with my host family started to improve, I became more outgoing with my friends. And so far, it doesn’t seem to be fading away.

In the week before Christmas, I stayed busy. Spent a lot of time catching up on my tanning, since I lost 10 days. Snuck behind my family’s back to buy them Christmas presents. Picked out my Christmas present (more on that later.) Invited my friends over for dinner, American style, since I’m too broke to buy them actual gifts.

That night was pretty amazing. I decided to make grilled cheese sandwiches, because it’s simple and delicious and most of all, so fattening that you can’t deny the American- ness. I scared everyone by putting bacon on them (it’s seen as almost taboo because it’s so fatty, which breaks my heart to be entirely honest.) But the scaring wasn’t only one- way. I nearly had a heart attack when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my host mom casually pick up a raw piece of bacon and put the whole slice into her mouth. I thought it was a joke, but was swiftly assured by everyone in attendance that I was the weird one. I guess I never thought about it before, but it is edible- not that I’ll be throwing the frying pan out any time soon.

Everyone loved it, and for dessert we shared a box of Patagonian chocolates. Safe to say we were quite content. To top off the night, we did one of my favorite things ever: drive around. Yeah, ok, I know it doesn’t sound exciting in any way. But there’s really not all that much to do in this town, so we do what we can. And driving around with all the windows down, singing along to songs that I’ve finally learned the words to- that’s not a shabby way to kill an hour.

Flash forward to the 23rd. Since here celebrations happen on the 24th, the 23rd became my Christmas Eve. So I stayed in, turned on the tree’s lights, whipped up some egg nog, pulled out some American candy from my stash, and put on my favorite Christmas movie. It was a nice little moment, and the first time I’d felt “Christmassy.” See, for us up north, the Christmas feeling kind of permeates everything for the entire month of December. Here, it’s not that way. The traditions are more relaxed. Everyone puts up their decorations on December 8th. But decorations, as far as I saw in my house and others, are really just a tiny tree and maybe some lights. Besides that, it’s business as usual all month.

The 24th started out normally- I woke up, ate lunch with my host grandparents, took a dip in the pool, and siesta’d. Things only got ~festive~ around 10, when we loaded up all of the gifts and joined the rest of the family at my host grandparent’s house.

We ate dinner, which was really an assortment of appetizers- nothing special or unusual for Christmas like we have. Then we went out on the patio, and my host brother hooked up some music to the big speakers that he'd lugged over from our house for the following previa (pre- party, basically). It wasn't cumbia or reggaeton like I expected. Instead, it was more traditional couple music. Cousins danced with cousins, moms with sons, daughters with dads- you get the point- until midnight. Argentine fashion we started pouring the champagne at 12 instead of drinking it because no one noticed what time it was.

Then came time for presents. Here, the tradition is that a dad will dress up as Santa (Papa Noel), and show up on the roof at midnight, dropping the gifts down to the kids. But since my host cousins already figured that gig out long ago, my host mom just carried a mountain of presents out to us.

I got platforms from my host family (!!!) that I'd chosen out because I'm picky, and immediately switched out of my Birks, feeling very Argentine and very fashionable. My host aunt gave me a journal which I will definitely use because I'm already halfway through my third journal of the year which is crazy, and my host grandma gave me a necklace. I was really beyond blessed with all of it- I wasn't expecting anything (besides the shoes, of course). Not to be outdone, I brought out my gifts: pajamas! In my family, every year on Christmas Eve we get pajamas. So I thought it would be a great way to share my traditions with them. Also bought some Patagonian chocolates for my amazing host grandma.

Soon afterwards, I left to meet up with my friends. We stayed with one of the girls' families for about an hour, but ended up going back to my host brother's previa. And those were the only people we saw all night, basically. There were two venues open on Christmas. And in a town this small, that's kind of an issue. I think somewhere around 2,000 people went to the other event center; my friends and I were some of the 40 people in the pub. Sounds kind of awkward (was kind of awkward) but it ended up being really cool. We had space to actually dance, however we wanted, without worrying about everyone's drinks spilling on our cute outfits. And, we got in for free, which is always always worth it.

It's rare to wrap gifts here; normally they're left in the bag they were bought in.

Cousin Pauli, sister Camila, and me (obviously)

My amazing host family, all dolled up for the night.

Fast forward 5 days to New Years Eve. It was really more of the same- eat dinner all together, dance, toast. But my favorite thing of the night came probably 15 minutes after midnight. From what I gather, this is only a thing in Alberti, maybe a few other places- but it's unique.  The volunteer firefighters lead the line, followed by blocks and blocks of cars filled with families (some piled into the back of pickup trucks). When we heard the sound of car horns, we knew it was time to run out to the car. All you have to do is drive till you find the end, pull in behind the last car, and lay on the horn. If you don't join in, you can always just wait outside your house and wave- just like parades at home. We did this for about half an hour, then I asked to be dropped off at the same friend's house as Christmas.

This time we went to the busy venue, which blessedly has a huge outdoor area where we were able to not only watch a firework show,  but also not die of heatstroke. It was cool.

That's definitely an energy drink, by the way.

I started walking home around 7, and was asleep an hour later. Three hours, maybe four, later, I was peeling my eyes open again. My next host family had invited me to eat lunch with them, and of course I wanted to- it was worth the lack of sleep. By 12, I was chilling poolside. By two, eating asado. By 4, chilling poolside some more. I finally went home around 7, still tired but sporting a sweet tan.

New host cousin (who does CrossFit!), new host sister, and new host mom, who asked me to squat down so we would be at the same height (she was on her tiptoes already).

The next morning I left on the first of my summer vacations. Armed with my swimsuit and not much else, we set off on the three hour drive to Villa Gesell. I didn't get much sleep- road trips are a lot more fun when there aren't 3 basically- adults in the backseat of a truck on bumpy roads. When we got there, I took a power nap, then we went to this really cool beach. It's a bit out of the way, but you can drive onto the sand with your truck or car or whatever, and park wherever you want. Most people who go there bring their 4x4s or motorcycles to ride in the dunes. Since my host brother does competitive motocross, he practiced while we sat under a tent and drank mate and listened to music from the open doors of the truck.

The next 5 days fell into a tranquil little pattern: wake up, walk a block to the beach, walk to lunch, sleep a bit more, go to the other beach, walk to dinner, explore the main street, go to sleep, repeat. I never considered myself a beach- vacation type person; I prefer to do things that don't involve swimming, an activity at which I am inept. But just talking, drinking mate, relaxing- it was way nicer than I thought it would be. At night, we did a bit of shopping ( I caved and bought a new swimsuit), went mini- bowling, and enjoyed the occasional ice cream.

Also, it was a great way to spend my last week with my first family. Kind of a drawn- out goodbye. A few days after coming home, I changed families. It was really an anti- climactic event; my host mom and I brought my bags (all 100 of them) inside, then we sat at the pool (yay for families with pools!) and shared mate and just enjoyed the day.

I spent a week with them, unpacking and learning the ropes and whatnot. Then, last Sunday, I left again for Vacation Number Two, in Buenos Aires. My new host brother has an apartment there, so we just had to bring sheets and a tupperware full of milanesa to tide us over for the week. Every day in the afternoons, we met up with two of his friends- one who also lives in the city, and one girl from France. They all exchanged the same year, to my district in the US, so we had tons to talk about. I swear I’ve never walked so much in my life- but it was worth it. I can really say that I fell in love with the city.

For my dedicated readers: I mentioned a neighborhood of the city that I really liked, but couldn’t remember the name of. Well, we went back and now I do remember- it’s called Palermo SoHo. Other areas we saw: San Telmo, La Costanera, Caminito (the third time for me), more of Palermo, Recoleta… I’m probably forgetting some. We also went to a festival- thing (I’m at this point where I forget random words in English. I don’t know if there is a word for this but if there is, I don’t know what it is anymore.) Anyways, there, I found *American Food*. A pulled pork barbeque sandwich, to be exact, and it was GLORIOUS. But I’m getting ahead of myself- it was held at the horse tracks, and was absolutely full of people lining up for the various food trucks, listening to music and just hanging out.

Another thing to mention- I finally got to go to CrossFit again! I had seen a gym before, near where my first host sister lived. So I looked up their information, and walked there one morning. It was actually really scary because as much as I like to pretend that I’m still in tip- top shape, I’m not. But it went better than I thought it would. It's hard to describe, but I felt like I could breathe again, despite the fact that I could barely breathe (irony!).

Afterwards, I bought a shirt, and got talking to the trainer. When I told her my whole situation, she said I could come in for free as long as I was visiting- which was amazing and unexpected. I could have gone in two more times, but the crippling soreness convinced me to only go the next morning.

I got home a few days ago and finally feel like I have time to catch up on writing. Barely, though- tomorrow I leave for Staycation Number Three, a 5 day trip to Chivilcoy. Man oh man am I glad I chose South America. Hope all that snow and early mornings in school feel nice :)

Because I’m feeling depressed, I will not be ending this blog on a positive note.

I am officially halfway through my exchange, and I can’t believe it.

I didn’t really see it coming, because I only just confirmed my return date. It’s earlier than most students, too, because I have a trip to go on in June. Yeah, yeah, I know some of you are saying “wow life is so hard she has to go from a trip to a trip.” But it was a hard decision, and it’s been hard to come to terms with the fact that half of my memories have already been made.

I’ll try to update a little more frequently!

Besos

4 Month Update

As promised: an absurdly long update! Nowadays life has this amazing way of keeping me busy.

Bueno… The fun stuff really started in late November, on a Tuesday. I had gone to my Canadian bestie’s birthday party, and spent the night there. We spent all of Wednesday relaxing by her pool, which as all of you know is such hard work. That said, by the time I got home that evening, I was planning on showering and sleeping. Now, this is Argentina and I am a clean person, so of course you can guess which one didn’t happen.

When I say I didn’t sleep that night, I’m not exaggerating. You see, the sexto class was all getting together that night. A weeknight? Yes, a week night. Because Thursday was their last official day of school, and they had to celebrate. So by 11, instead of changing into my pajamas, I was eating burgers and hanging out. The next morning, we watched the sunrise, put on ridiculous costumes over our uniforms, and showed up to school in that state of overtiredness that leaves you acting like a seven year old who downed an entire Red Bull. Soon enough, the principal put the kibosh on our antics, leaving us in the crash phase. You all know what that means: every time you blink, it becomes harder and harder to pry your eyes back open, but you spend every agonizing moment resisting it, because regrettably you are not in your bed. Most of us lost that battle (I swear I’ve never been more comfortable in my life).

This is basically what we did all night (and yes, it's a garage).

Did I sleep after school? Por supuesto que no! Sleep is for the weak, and I had things to do. Those of you who payed attention: what was so special about that day? Thanksgiving of course! The perfect day to break out the pumpkin pie mix my lovely family sent me. “Really, Jill? “You ask, “You stayed up that long for pie?” To which I respond “Keep your opinion to yourself unless you too have travelled to a country where pumpkins don’t exist only to receive Snapchats of pumpkins and other Fall- like things from your  *bleep* sister. K?”

Just kidding. I made it because my host mom is a peach, and planned a Thanksgiving dinner. Well, Thanksgiving is kind of a loose term; the only Thanksgiving- y things were my pie and the day itself. For everything else, we went full Argentina. Which was not in any way sad to me, because asado is bae.

So, I made a pie, helped get the house ready, and hung out with Lindsay until our guests (my second host family!) showed up. Other exchange students will know that this adds a certain level of stress (and excitement, of course) to any event. I think that’s the only force that kept me awake that night. By the time dessert and post- meal conversations were coming to a close, it was 2 AM, and I had been awake for 36 hours- 36 amazing, full- of- life, unforgettable hours.

Those 36 hours were followed by 7 hours of blessed sleep, followed by peeling my eyes open, downing the last quarter of the pie, getting in the car, and falling asleep again on the 2 hour drive to Tigre. My host aunt lives there, so we visited her for the weekend. On Friday, we briefly went to the Puerto de Frutos, which is home to a great artisanal craft village, followed by a nap (!!!!!!!) and pizza and great conversations. Saturday at 8, we caught a boat and set out to Martin Garcia Island, which is in a river. I think it’s worth mentioning the river bit because we were on the boat for 3 hours and to me that is absolutely inconceivable, having grown up in a desert.

Anyways, once there, we took a brief tour that I didn’t entirely understand due to my lack of knowledge of Argentine historical figures (one of which was exiled there, I guess), bought some alfajores, and explored. It was a really cool opportunity to see more of Argentina, and check some things off of my bucket list. Or it would have been if I had a bucket list.

On Sunday, before driving back home, my host aunt, host mom and I went to visit my host sister in Buenos Aires before heading home (if I stop typing the word “host” you’ll all still get this right because it’s starting to feel a little redundant). We went to this neighborhood that I absolutely loved- if I ever make a radical life decision to live in the city, it would be there. If I remembered what it was called I would gladly tell you, but alas, nope. It had very Fort Collins- y vibes, though.

The following week was relatively calm- I did a lot of sleeping, as you may have guessed. And the next Sunday, I set out on yet another adventure: The Rotary South Trip!

So here’s the breakdown:

Day 1: Was pretty much a transitional day. We all met in Buenos Aires at 9, and spent the morning being touristy- a brief visit to Caminito, then lunch in Puerto Madero. The afternoon was mostly free time at the hotel, which we used to intermittently sleep, exchange pins, and get to know the mass of people we didn’t already. The night was spent one of two ways: the smarter of us slept, and the less- brainy ones stayed up and talked. Now normally I’m an advocate for stay- up- now- sleep- later, but in this case it wasn’t the best move.

((Fun fact: This was exactly a year after the day I chose Argentina, which is pretty frickin awesome timing if you ask me))

Day 2: Started at 3 o’clock, when we met in the hotel lobby and headed to the airport. For reference: 3 AM is an acceptable time to be awake if you’re going to a disco; it is not, however, an appropriate to wake up. My plans to snooze on the plane were thwarted when I realized I was sitting next to potentially the most talkative German alive (discussions included gun control and whether or not people are inherently good). Once we landed in Ushuaia (the southernmost city in the world which is crazy if you think about it), we flooded the grocery store and freaked out everyone there, then went our separate ways for some free time. I went with an Austrian, a German, and a Canadian to eat on a (private but left unlocked) dock.

That afternoon, we went on a Catamaran tour of the Canal de Beagle- the separating line between Chile and Argentina. We were all super excited when we saw a little rocky island covered in penguins, but then we realized that penguins don’t fly. But I swear that was the only difference- right down to the lovely smell. Also sighted: sea lions! Which smelled worse than the fake penguins, but are frickin adorable. I even saw one swimming right next to the boat. Probably my favorite part about this day was a stop we made on an island during the tour. It’s really just a photo op, and we took full advantage- The three of us in the center were the Americans on the trip, and the Asians? Well honestly, I have no idea who they are, but they were super psyched to see Americans, and showed no hesitation about jumping into our photo.  We also went to a museum in a former prison, which was really interesting. It probably would have been more interesting if I could have kept my eyes open. There was also info about the Yamanas, the native people of Patagonia, who somehow figured out how to not wear clothes and still not die.

((Fun Fact: The aforementioned talkative German’s name was Till, which rhymes with Jill, which is cool))

Day 3: Blessedly began at a decent time of day, and was again full of stunning views. We visited the Tierra Del Fuego National Park, and the end of Ruta Nacional 3, which is a 3,000 kilometer long national highway (Route 66 is close to 4,000 km, for reference). It was a day full of being really cold but also really good photos. Sadly, in the afternoon, it was a little bit too cold and windy, so one of our outings got cancelled. Instead, we hung out at the local mall. Which was a great opportunity to just unwind, talk with kids we hadn’t talked with much, and eat ice cream.

((Fun fact: Our tour guide’s name was Macarena. Yes, the very same as everyone’s favorite wedding song. I guess it escaped me that that’s, like, a real name that people actually have.))

Day 4: Was our final day in Ushuaia, which was a sad goodbye, but I’d say we spent it well. We checked out of the hotel by 10, but we weren’t getting on the road until 2 that afternoon, and we had no other scheduled outings. So they let us have the run of the town for 4 hours. Which would have been great, had we not seen it before. But Ushuaia is basically one touristy street, already well explored, their cash registers home to many of our  pesos for souvenirs. So a pretty big group of us decided to go out of town. We followed the streets up and up, at every fork choosing the steepest road, past the businesses and through the neighborhoods, till we reached an unfenced chunk of mountain. Like the stupid teenagers we are, we decided to climb it. It was steep and muddy and I’m surprised no one got hurt, but it was worth it. The view was amazing- the whole bay, unblocked by the tightly packed buildings. Thighs burning with the first exercise most of us had done in 3 months, most of the group decided that was enough, and started heading down. But 6 of us girls decided we weren’t done (it is any surprise that we had all grown up in Colorado, Canada, Germany, or Austria?). Till even had the nerve to say that we should come down because the view doesn’t get better the higher you go. Ha. The naivety.

So up we went, in search of nothing but a good time. Once we crossed an unpaved road, we split off into two groups- 2 girls wanted to keep going, but the other 4 of us suspected that pretending to not know Spanish would not save us if we turned out to be on someone’s property, so we followed the road downhill. Luckily enough, we found a real nature path, which eventually lead to a road, which left us pretty lost. But fear not! Down was a pretty easy direction to go, so we started to wind our way back towards civilization.

The sky had been clear just long enough for us to get our scenic photos, but since then had been slowly darkening. Halfway to town, the clouds were ready to go- and it wasn’t rain this time. SNOW. Huge, fluffy, gorgeous snow. The four of us immediately started FREAKING OUT. Walking in the middle of the street, spinning around with our arms and tongues out to catch as much as possible, singing Christmas carols at the top of our lungs because it was the first time we’d felt the Christmas spirit at all. We were on the receiving end of many piteous glances from the natives who were all  in parkas or cars, but we were impervious. I’m sure we were a sorry sight, but we certainly didn’t feel like it at the time. We were freezing, yes, but it was a certain kind; rosy cheeks so numb that smiling becomes difficult, yet somehow so much easier; wind- blown hair becoming  hopelessly tangled, yet somehow wonderfully light. It was the kind of cold that makes you feel alive.

By the time we reached the main street, the snow had cleared up, and  being cold wasn’t fun anymore. So we found another group of students, and a restaurant, and rotated between eating warm foods and using the air dryer to heat up various items of clothing.

2 hours later, we were back on the bus. We made a few stops on the way for photos, and eventually ended up in Rio Grande. This day, we had assigned roommates. Sorted by alphabetical order, which was pretty convenient, as it turns out. See, Julie and Jillian were put together, and so were Lindsay and Lisa, and Julie and Lisa were best friends, and Jillian and Lindsay were best friends, and Julie and Jillian had an extra big room with 2 extra beds. All together now: sleepover! We snuck a few other girls in, too, and all talked till 1 AM or so.

((Fun fact: We saw a horse carcass! No telling how long it had been there, seeing as the perpetual cold kind of slows down the decomposing process. Till didn’t get to see a horse carcass.))

A few minutes before the snow.

Day 5: Made me temporarily lose my mind. We were on the bus for SO LONG. Luckily, I was so tired that even the bus seats felt like memory foam, so I slept away a huge chunk of it. Here’s how it went though: We left at 7 or so, drove to Argentine customs, inexplicably sat there for 2 hours, finally went through customs, drove very very very slowly on an unpaved road through no- man’s land, arrived at Chilean customs, waited some more, kept driving, got to the Estrecho de Magallanes, which we had to cross in a ferry, found out the ferry wasn’t coming on account of the wind, waited 4 hours without being able to get off the bus just in case the ferry came, prayed we wouldn’t have to sleep on the bus, finally got on the ferry, got off the ferry, and drove 6 more hours in the middle of nowhere until we reached the first town in Chile, Puerto Natales, at 1 AM. Which is much later than restaurants here are open on week nights, so we went to bed without eating dinner. At least I can say I got my passport stamped.

((Fun fact: According to my Google search, driving this stretch only takes 6 hours normally. SIX.))

Obviously SUPER EXCITED to finally be on the ferry. Clockwise from me: USA, Germany, Switzerland, Canada, Belgium, Finland,Austria, France.

Day 6: Left me totally speechless. It was stunning. There wasn’t one thing in Torres del Paine National Park that wasn’t breathtaking. Have you ever seen glacial water before? No? Well, do it. It’s incredible.

The mountains we saw here were nothing like my mountains- but even more stunning. Picture this: A mosaic of greenery over rolling hills; brilliant turquoise water; gray, craggy peaks topped with snow, and a clear blue sky above. I am describing this because at the time of writing, I don’t have a photo handy.

Also, we had a hella cool tour guide, who definitely made the day better. He was cool for a lot of reasons but primary among them was the fact that he was wearing shorts when the rest of us were wearing 3 layers of fleece, which I can relate to because I personally believe that Chacos are acceptable at any time of year.

We drove back to Argentina that afternoon, which this time was blessedly entirely on dry ground and almost entirely on paved roads.

Day 7: Took my breath away.This was the day we walked on the Perito Moreno Glacier. People tell you galciers are big. People show you amazing pictures of glaciers. But there’s nothing quite like seeing one up close for yourself. It’s truly unique and honestly, humbling.

Before we got to walk on it, we all had to take turns getting krampons tied to our feet, and lemme tell ya that is a weird experience. Walking isn’t necessarily difficult, but the fear of stabbing yourself (or another person) with a slight misstep made us all tread a little more deliberately than usual. Beyond that, it was almost like hiking; they told us to lean back and bend our knees when going downhill, stay on the path, and all that jazz.

Definitely an experience to remember

((Fun Fact: Did you know that things actually live on glaciers? Yeah, crazy, I know, but there’s some sort of bug that lives off the minerals in the ice. Talk about adaption.))

Day 8: Gave me some very Colorado- y vibes. We drove to El  Chalten, a small town located inside of a national park, and the trekking capital of Argentina. Unfortunately, our day was short; we only got to go for a 20- ish minute hike, eat lunch at a hostel, and then drive back to the hotel. But it was still one of my favorite days, just because it was the closest we got to my kind of mountains. And, over milanesa and mashed potatoes (which I had missed SO MUCH, having gone a week without it), we had some really cool conversations with a group of Israelis who were starting a 2 month trip around South America.

((Fun Fact: Our tour guide this day raved about these gorgeous, interesting flowers we were going to be able to see on the hike. Imagine our surprise when we saw Dandelions EVERYWHERE. I guess a weed is really only a plant that isn’t wanted))

Day 9: I suffered from Cabin Fever. After spending the morning roaming El Calafate’s main street, we hit the road again- for 22 straight hours. We only stopped to buy food. Which means that there was a really, really long wait to brush our teeth in the one bathroom that more than 40 people were sharing. It was super. However, I did get a movie- cation. And by that I mean: You know when someone makes a movie reference, and you don’t get it, and you say “wait, what?” and then everyone collectively gasps because your childhood must have been horrendous without having seen that particular movie? Yeah, those. That was Kill Bill, Volumes one and two, for me. Uma Thurman is cool.

Day 10: Was our last real day together. We arrived in Puerto Madryn around 10 AM, and as a treat, checked into our 4 star hotel- complete with double beds and balconies and sea views. After we all took advantage of our respective bathrooms, we walked about 3 kilometers to the main part of town. From there, we split off for a few hours to find lunch. Regardless, half of us ended up in the same restaurant- always fun (for us, not the wait staff).

On the way back to the hotel, we split up- those who wanted to get ice cream and those who wanted to walk back on the beach. My pals and I, overachievers that we are, had already enjoyed our helado, so we opted for the beach. It was another one of those moments that I’ll remember for long time- just the simplicity of enjoying some perfect weather with some perfect friends.

As luck would have it, there was another group of exchange students, on the last night of their trip, staying at the same hotel. So after dinner, we all congregated in the lobby and bonded in the way only exchange students can.

((Fun Fact: Germans can breakdance, as evidenced by Till getting into a breakdance battle with some locals at a beach- side skate park. ))

Austria, France, USA, USA, Canada

Day 11: We took off from Puerto Madryn at 7 AM, and that was really the beginning of the end. See, because we were in 3 districts, we stopped at about 8 places, the bus slowly becoming more quiet and more sad. And for my district, the bus ride was 25 hours long- we were the last stop. It was not a super day. I don't think anyone cried- the band- aid wasn't ripped off all that quickly. But there was a rather melancholic feeling in the air. Also, because we made various stops in the middle of the night, we didn't get much sleep at all. We were in pretty rough shape, needless to say.

The two kids from Chivilcoy and I shared a taxi to get home, and even though I was beyond exhausted , I couldn't sleep in the car. By the time I finally crawled into bed that night (having opted to go to the pool with my friends in place of a siesta), I'd been awake (if you don't count dozing off for a few minutes) for more than 30 hours. Again.

Man, I just keep racking these up, don't I?

All right folks, we'll wrap it up there for now. I promise (really, truly) that eventually I'll catch you all up on everything I've done.

Besos!