You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2008.
OK, so I’ve returned to rainy NYC, and it seems like the fun’s over for now – at least until I save up enough for my trip to Peru and Bolivia. 
I was thinking of putting together some sort of lessons-learned, pithy insights kind of post, but my brain really can’t handle that right now, even after receiving steady infusions of yerba mate throughout the day, and I suppose that will have to wait until my pithiness centers have reactivated.
And so what oh what shall become of AoBN?
Read the rest of this entry »
Last night abroad, and I’m sipping a pisco sour in a courtyard in Santiago to unwind…
I made my final border crossing back into Chile yesterday, via a road so shoddy and neglected that it seemed like it was deliberately designed to make you feel like you’re doing something ultra-shady just by taking it.
Chile, you say? Ah'm afraid you can't get theah from heah...
Of course, the fact that I had seven keys of coke sitting in a backpack in the back seat didn’t help. (Dear Chilean Customs officials: joking – please, no body cavity searches tomorrow.)
The Argentinean passport control folks were so surprised to see me, they processed my paperwork wrong – prompting the Chilean passport control guy to make fun of them and essentially call them a bunch of rubes. Oh, will you two never stop in your squabbling?
But I’ve become well-practiced in the border crossing protocol – in fact, it’s probably the area in which I’ve picked up my most useful “applied Spanish”. All told, El Jefe and I have danced back and forth across the Chile-Argentina border six times, amassing an impressive collection of stamps on our transit documents.
So many memories...
And so it was with some sadness that El Jefe was retired today, after 15 days of valiant service. Of course, my rental car agent Captain Hard-Ass was somehow able to spot a “new dent” on my thoroughly dented and scratched pickup, and that set me back an extra $100. But it’s only fair – after driving more than 4000 km on roads that were alternately made of dirt, gravel, boulders, shards of petrified wood, and even – once in a rare, blessed while – asphalt, I’m sure El Jefe has been thoroughly befucked in ways that will only become apparent in a week or so, and I’m probably getting off the hook easy. I hope he gets a little rest before they rent him out again.
As for me, I’m going to finish getting loaded and eat some ceviche. Ciao y hasta luego…
Really, I hate to bitch. No. Wait. That’s not true. I love to bitch. But I hate to bitch in a vacuum, without talking about cool positive stuff too.
Truth be told, I knew full well what I was getting myself into with this itinerary (minus the massive outbreak of electronic fail), and so I took care to protect my mental well-being by bracketing the Hell Drive with plenty of Nature-y Awesomeness.
Before I left for the Great Northward Voyage, I spent the entire day chilling at the beautiful but seemingly ignored Tierra del Fuego National Park, where I think I saw less than 50 other visitors over the course of the entire day. This is a shame, since the park is absolutely beautiful.
The fundamental problem with going to Tierra del Fuego, of course, was that somehow I had to get back from it. This left me in a pickle, as I hate to backtrack – especially considering how punishing Ruta 40 had been to El Jefe’s suspension.
But then I thought – this has been a trip of Extremes. The Highest-Altitude Geyser. The Southernmost City. The Driest Desert. So why not go for a new Extreme? Let’s call it the Dullest Fucking Drive in History.
That’s what it is right now. I mean, the mercury’s certainly been lower at other points of my trip, but I don’t think I’ve had to deal with such malicious, skin-flaying wind yet, and that’s making all the difference. So right now I’m huddling pathetically in a pub. It’s kind of embarassing, really – I mean, I’m from New England, not San Diego. Sigh.
So I was going to finally get around to doing that post about my week in the desert, but I’m really not that motivated right now – it’s just too much of a time-jump right now, and I’ve still got a ton of catching up in my pen-and-ink book to do and I’m just not feeling like doing the time warp right now.
And besides, that’s so early October. Now I’m doing Cold Weather Fun.
Like glaciers!
And so I have arrived in Ushuaia, the “southernmost city in the world”, and a mere 1000km from Antarctica (and as close as I’ll get to Big Whitey this time around).
So I’ve spent the last three days or so about as far off the grid as it’s possible to be, zigzagging back and forth between Chilean and Argentinean Patagonia, and trying to think of how I can best capture how insanely varied and beautiful the scenery is from day to day. I think the best summary I can come up with this: it’s as if I somehow crashed Roger Rabbit-style into some sort of commercial dimension, and I’m now living full-time in the world of beer and truck commercials. Here, all the mountains are Rocky and Snow-Capped.
We use only the coldest, cleanest mountain spring water...
Hi, everybody. This is my truck, El Jefe:
And this is Patagonia:
I think the two will be fast friends, don’t you?
I’m not going to get around to putting up my second archived post, just ’cause this last one took longer than expected. But I’d like to repudiate my previous bitchiness about Santiago. I’ve had a very nice afternoon here, hiking on this mountainside trail right in the freakin’ middle of the city, and I’m currently enjoying a couple of local microbrews in this artsy little bar where they’re apparently making a film. Oh, and I’m going to be watching the Obama-McCain debate tonight at an expat party in this bar downtown, so I don’t have to feel the total pain of political withdrawal.
My only standing complaint about Chile now is the empanadas. Whereas Argentinean empanadas are gracefully-made, perfectly-spiced little flavor grenades, the Chilean empanadas I’ve had so far are nothing more than oversized doughy pillowcases full of fail. This may change, but that’s my opinion so far. On the other hand, the ceviche here is killer, and I’m a sucker for a good pisco sour, so I guess it all balances out…
Since so many people have asked, I’ve decided to dedicate a longish single post to my Argentinean forays from the last week. Well, ok – so nobody asked. Frankly, I’m a bit hurt about that. But that’s ok, I’m on vacation and you’re not.
[**warning: long post but with lots of cool pictures, if i do say so myself**]
So! After departing lovely BA for the final time, we headed to northwestern Argentina, and the even lovelier city of Salta—so much lovelier, in fact, that Argentineans have taken to calling it La Linda (“The Pretty One”) and trumpeting that nickname at every opportunity.
That's some nice guerilla marketing there, guys...
More after the jump…
