The North Trip! (Also, Eggs)

When I came back from the trip to Patagonia in December, I would have doubtless told you that it was the best trip of my life. That might be an actual quote from my post- I’d check if I had WiFi at school.

Now, though, I can’t say that at all. Actually, in comparison with the North Trip, the South Trip could be described as “sub- par” or “mediocre.”

The North Trip started off with a bang. My host sister and my best Argentine friend (who both now live in the city) brought me to the hotel, and stuck around for a bit. As the students from the other district (who had started the trip a week earlier in Mendoza) came to greet us, they were surprised to find that they were, indeed, talking to real Argentines.

As soon as they left, we were told to get ready for the Tango show we were to see last night.  Turns out by “get ready” they really meant that; someone forgot to tell our district that we should bring nice clothes for the occasion. So, my Californian pal and I showed up to a nice dinner- and- a- show in matching outfits, cute but not fit for dinner- and- a- show (blue jeans, t- shirts, and plaid button- ups tied around our waists). ‘Merica.

Our choice of clothing did nothing to dampen our spirits, however. After dinner, we gave it our all in our tango lessons. 

Of course we were put to shame by the real tango dancers that night, but we still felt like winners at heart.

The culmination of the 30 minute class

If you thought we went to bed after arriving to the hotel at midnight, you’d be wrong. Most of us ended up in a bedroom, getting to know the other group of students. I, and a few others, tapped out at 3 AM, not willing to go for the gold (not sleeping at all). Instead, we woke up at 6, and left the hotel at 7.

My exhaustion made the 7- hour bus ride to Federacion, Entre Rios easy as pie. I slept the whole way, and… well.. the next 14 hours as well. I don’t know what happened to me but I started off the trip with a bug. I was fine, but beyond exhausted. I think I was awake that day for collectively 3 hours. In that time, I tried to enjoy the gorgeous hotel we were in. So I went to the heated pool, and to the riverside with my room mates.

I went to bed feeling so bad that I planned to go to the doctor the next day- only to wake up feeling absolutely perfect. Weird as heck? Yes. But at least it happened on a day when my only responsibility was to relax.

When we left that hotel the next morning, we had a lot less free time off of the bus.

Our next stop was in the north of the province Misiones. This meant almost an entire day of driving, broken up by a stop for lunch and tour at a yerba mate plantation. Pretty fascinating for me, the mate addict that I am, to see how it’s done.

Geography nerds, if there are any among my readers, who knows which popular tourist spot is located in the North- East of Argentina?

Las cataratas! Or waterfalls, for those of you who aren’t bilingual.

For the next three nights, we stayed in a hotel a short drive from the Iguazu Falls.

First off, about the hotel: it was amazing. The rooms were all little cabins, set off from a trail, surrounded by the sub- tropical rainforest. This was quite the treat for me. Just walking to and from meals or to the pool, I saw things I’d never seen before. Like real banana trees, slugs as big as my hand, toads as big as my face, and a real tarantula that wasn’t named Rosie. This was all due to the 100% humidity that we had those days. Did you read that? ONE HUNDRED PERCENT HUMIDITY. I put my waterfall- soaked clothes out to dry for TWO DAYS and they didn’t dry.

Also, we decided to mix up the room assignments, so that our two districts would get to know each other better. That meant that I was in a room with three girls who I’d had my first conversation with that day, on the bus, when we decided room assignments. That could have gone quite badly, but instead I ended up becoming friends with them for the rest of the trip.

The first full day we had in Iguazu, we went to the National Park for a tour. I was honestly awe- struck the whole day. The falls were absolutely gorgeous, and I’d never seen anything like it before. I still can’t wrap my mind around just how much water there was flowing over the falls every second.

One of my favorite games to play when I’m being a tourist is “Spot the American.”

And spot them we did. They were obvious. If we hadn’t heard them speaking English (but let’s be real, Americans are loud- of course we heard them), we would have spotted them easily anyways. Here, it’s easy to forget how people at home dress since I’m not seeing them every day. So when I saw some Nike socks and baseball caps, I knew that these were my people.  We ended up taking a selfie with them at the top of the Garganta del Diablo.

To wrap up the day, we went on a boat ride that basically consisted of repeatedly circling around to go under the waterfalls for 30 minutes. From far enough away, the view from that low angle was breathtaking. But once you got too close, the view was generally obscured by my hands, fighting to keep my face from being pelted by the water. The falls were deafeningly loud, but I still knew that all around were the laughs and screams of the other students (and random people who got stuck on the same boat as us, hah.)

Once we got back to the hotel, I went to the pool with some other students to enjoy some mate from my new equipo, courtesy of the host mom. It was too cold to swim (I mean if you’re used to Colorado weather it was fine, but not for me anymore), but it was fine that way. Because the next day I spent all day there. Why? Well. The American government decided to crush my dreams.

See, all of the students who weren’t from the US or Canada (also one guy who forgot his passport, whoops), went to Brazil for the day. Unfortunately, we North Americans couldn’t enter without a Visa thanks to a reciprocity rule. So we just chilled poolside and tried not to act jealous when looking at the photos everyone else took. Honestly the saddest part was that we didn’t get to eat lunch with them at the all- you- can- eat buffet with food from all over the world.

Shame.

Anyways. That night, we went to the Tres Fronteras between Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil. Seeing as it was 10 PM we couldn’t see the other countries, but it’s fine, at least I can say I was there! Also, I bought a fanny pack. Best investment of my life thus far.

The next day got back on the bus to drive to the city of Corrientes, which is the capital of the province of Corrientes.  It was basically just a stop on the way, so we had a lot of free time in the city. That night, we all went out together to share a few drinks and enjoy each other’s company.

We left late the next day, in the early afternoon. Since we couldn’t occupy the hotel (or we would have just slept, to be honest), I went with a small group to find the river. That was something I really appreciated during the trip- we had far more freedom than before. We could set out as a group, ask a local for directions, and just go try to find cool stuff. That day, we found the remainder of what was once a giant tree, that I’m pretty sure burned down at some point. For some reason I climbed it, and nearly died trying to climb down. Worth it. 

It was a good thing we walked so much that day. For the next 20 hours, we were on the bus- the longest stretch of the trip- to take us from Corrientes all the way to the province of Jujuy. Surprisingly, the time flew by. We passed it playing Werewolf, which is basically Belgian “Mafia,” various card games (of which I won approx. .01% of the time), and talking about everything under the sun. I never thought I’d say this but I actually had fun while stuck on a bus for almost a full day.

At 9 AM, we got off the bus at a little stop that marked an elevation of 4,170 meters above sea level. The number is irrelevant as far as I know. I was just jacked to be breathing thin air for the first time in months. I couldn’t breathe, but I felt like I could breathe again.

An hour of driving higher and we arrived at the Salt Flats. It’s really just a lake in the middle of nowhere, where people to go take cool pictures and leave.

And take cool pictures we did.

I don’t know how many of you are aware of this, but a common thing for exchange students to do is, at some point on their exchange, take half- naked pictures together. That was weird to type, but it’s the truth. What can I say? We’re a bizarre group. That said, if you don’t want to see some bare backs (I swear that’s all that’s visible), keep scrolling.

The boys were off doing their own version of the picture (it does not involve pants but it does involve flags), so a random couple (from Pennsylvania!) literally ran over to take the camera so that all of the girls could join in. It was probably the craziest thing I’ve ever done, and man it was fun.

We even got posted on an exchange student Instagram, and the photo got over a thousand likes. Which is a dang accomplishment.

Maybe it was the relief of finally getting off of the bus. Maybe it was the thin air making us delirious. Probably both. Despite a not- so- restful night, we were ridiculously jolly, and after we had our shirts back on we jumped around in circles like 6 year olds on a sugar high at Disneyland, chanting and laughing and overall celebrating how marvelous our lives are.

Sample Below:

Featured: Juan, the Rotarian who made it all happen. He was the bomb.

Down the mountain a few hundred meters was our next long- term stop on the trip. We stayed in the town of Tilcara, and I took advantage of the thin air to wash and dry some clothes (including the outfit that was still damp from the falls).

That afternoon, once we were settled in and showered, we went to the town plaza, which was lined with vendor booths. Oh man, was I a sucker for all of it. Everything I saw, I thought “I would use this. This is a good investment piece.” I may have spent more money in those few days (there were booths at practically every tourist stop we went to) than I have in the entire exchange. I also bought gifts for people at home, so, ya know… at least I wasn’t entirely selfish.

One of the nights in that hotel, we got a little surprise. Some of the natives of the area came in and played their traditional music for us. It was really incredible. Impossible not to feel the spirit and rhythm of the music. As the main musician pointed out, you can trace how modern reggaeton evolved from the native’s music.

That night, we went to a local bar, overflowing it, to listen to the same style of music and really enjoy the culture. For me, it was important to really appreciate the atmosphere. It wasn’t just another night in a bar with the same music we always listen to. Being in Northern Argentina really is like being in a different country. Their culture was greatly uninfluenced by the wave of Italian and Spanish immigrants who flooded Buenos Aires. I knew it was maybe the only time in my life I’d be able to listen to their music, and I’m glad I got into it.

Over the next two days, before we left the region, we saw a string of little tourist towns, all scenic, explored the ruins of Pucara, and passed the line of the tropic of Capricorn.

The ruins

Out exploring, ft. fanny pack

We said our goodbyes and headed south again, to Salta. In Salta, I crossed something off my bucket list: Rafting! Yes, I did indeed live in Colorado for almost 18 years without going rafting. Everyone had a ball making jokes about my lack of swimming ability. (“Hey Jill, you may want to tighten your life jacket a bit, you’re probably going to need it!”) But it’s okay, I made it out alive- and had a great time. Bonus- I wore my Chacos while everyone else had to put on some nasty neoprene boots that had been touched by like a million sets of damp feet before.

Post- Rafting. From left to right: Holland, Faroe Islands, USA (duh), Canada, Denmark

The next day was a long one full of driving through the mountains. It would have gone faster save for the fact that we were in a double decker bus navigating mountain passes, and broke down at one point.

We also stopped at a few scenic points along the way. It was so weird; at some points, I could have really been in Colorado again. Besides a lack of pine trees, the mountains were remarkably similar- red rocks and everything. I happened to be wearing Birks that day, not conducive to climbing rocks. But I couldn’t resist, so I went barefoot a few times. Felt good to get out there again.

I thought that being somewhere like that would make me homesick. But it actually did the opposite. Seeing something so similar to home made me realize that I can find happiness anywhere in the world. So I bought an anklet to remind me of that, holding up the bus from leaving to do so. Worth it.

This was also called the Garganta del Diablo, like the waterfall

We arrived late to the hotel near Tafi del Valle, which according to a Czeck girl on exchange in Tucuman, is really pretty. But we didn’t see it at all, since we left the next day at 6 :30 or something ridiculous.

We woke up to some hard news: The terror attacks in Brussels.

Unfortunately, we live in times when these events aren’t uncommon. And they never become easier to hear about. In this case, it became harder. It was the first time that I knew people personally affected- there were 5 Belgians on the trip with us.

Throughout the day, waiting to get updates, hoping everything was okay, I truly realized what it means to be an exchange student. This horrific event was no longer abstract. The world got smaller; Belgium suddenly seemed closer to home. Now, whenever something makes the news- good or bad- in any of the countries represented on the trip, I’ll wonder. I’ll have a reason to think, not just click on to the next article. That’s one of the many beautiful, powerful things about exchange.

The next stop was our last- The city of Cordoba.

In the few days we were there, we did classic tourist things- a few city tours, a gondola to an overlook, going to like 10 banks to find an ATM that worked to refresh our depleted cash and go shopping.

My district at the scenic overlook in Cordoba

On our final night all together, Juan, the Rotary rep on the trip, gave us the best gift of all: he said we could go out together. Our hotel wasn’t in the optimal position, so we had to walk about 15 blocks both ways. But it was so worth it. We had an amazing time, everyone dancing with everyone else, singing along to all the songs until the boliche closed.

I got in maybe three hours of sleep. We had until 4 in the afternoon free- but we had to check out of the hotel. So we walked again, to a mall we’d seen the night before. I ate Subway for the first time, and freaked everyone out by ordering McDonald’s fries and ice cream. And afterwards, we did nothing. It was actually pretty strategic. We bounced between shoe stores, sitting on the chairs or benches or whatever, until we thought the staff was judging us, then we moved on to the next. At one point we stared at a picture of models for 10 minutes, saying things like “She has long legs. I bet she does high jump,” and “My stomach used to look like that, before exchange.” It was only stupid conversations like that that kept us awake, honestly. It’s alright though- I’m sure now every time I go into a shoe store I’ll think of the amazing friends I was with that day.

At four, we loaded up the bus for the last time, and drove to the bus terminal. The two buses left a few hours apart. We said our goodbyes to the first group, which was surprisingly hard. And afterwards, we set out despite our exhaustion (or maybe because of it) to find a Starbucks. The barista wrote my name as Chill, which at least is better than Sheel, and gave us all a laugh. As we drank, we watched a fountain show in a busy plaza, and headed back for dinner.

Everyone from my district left all together, leaving the rest of the group to drive one more night on our group bus to Mendoza.

I think a got a bit of a taste of what saying goodbye will be like at the end of exchange: really, really hard. There’s something terrifying about not being sure if you’ll ever see someone again. Though we had met only two weeks before, I felt like I’d been lifelong friends with some of them.

I couldn’t really be sad, though- almost as soon as I sat down I fell asleep. Even in an uncomfortable bus seat, I slept the whole night through.

At 6AM, we got home to Buenos Aires. My host family picked me up. But instead of going home, they drove me and another student to Mercedes. We were formally there to celebrate one of the student’s birthdays, but I think we were mostly there because none of us wanted the trip to end quite yet.

Zoe (the girl from California) and I stayed at a Rotary counselor’s house, and between meals we did a whole lot of nothing. It was great.

That night, we went to dinner with the rest of the students, at a restaurant that reminded me a lot of Old Town Fort Collins. And right at midnight, we rung in Candice’s (she’s French) 18^th birthday with a homemade cake. Also marks the first time all exchange that I had tacos, which was exciting in its own right.

The next day was more of the same, just catching up on sleep until the afternoon. Zoe and I again went on a search for an ATM, found an ATM, then an ice cream shop, then got lost on the way back home. By the time we finally got home, we had to leave again to go to the real party. Pretty standard Argentine party- we just talked and ate and played cards for a few hours.

Then came dinner. Candice had plans with her host family, so the other five of us left to go to another student’s house. We ate frickin delicious pizza and, through a game of “Truth or Truth,” we got to know each other even better than before.

The next day, after going out and only sleeping two hours, I got on a bus again to take me to Alberti.

Unfortunately, it left me at the entrance to the town. My host mom was waiting for me where we thought the bus would stop. And I, lacking cell service, had to hide my stuff behind a sign and walk a quarter mile to the gas station. Cool.

Now we’re at Sunday, which was Easter! And even though I was tired, I was excited to learn about the traditions that they have here.

My current family had already celebrated since my host brother had to go back to the city. So I went around the corner to my first host grandma’s house. We had a classic Sunday lunch with them, nothing out of the ordinary. And afterwards, they brought out the best Easter tradition ever: Giant chocolate eggs. I was given two smaller ones for myself, and so were my host siblings. Then my host brother broke the big egg, and we all shared it (and the candy inside) for dessert.

I went home to change and drop off my stuff, then we went to my host cousin’s house to do it again- and they let me break the egg this time.

Full of chocolate, my first host sister, mom, and I set out to the campo. It’s fall here, which means it’s harvest time, and my host dad was busy at work. My host mom, who grew up in the middle of nowhere, flawlessly navigated the dirt roads till we reached a random field, where my host dad was working. They showed me all the basics: the little trailer they stay in to not miss harvest time, the various machines, the different types of crops (I’d never seen soy before.) And the best part: I got to ride in the cosechador (don’t have a clue what the word is in English) for a few rounds with my host dad.

Before heading home, my host mom drove us to the house where she grew up. It’s a classic abandoned farmhouse: half- furnished, the floorboards bend, even complete with a creepy basement only accessible with a ladder. But still, it was charming, and I really wish I’d brought the camera.

I got home and unpacked, added all the new pins to the blazer, and went to sleep early to try to rest up for school the next day.

So, that’s a wrap for now. Until the next post, besos!