Gone South

The metal bench wrenches my backbone, it´s dividers contorting my body into a new uncomfortable position every five minutes. Any sleep during my overnight stay at the airport has become a lost cause.

So my mind wanders, again. To the same related topics that have irked me the past few days. I start questioning whether all of it is for something like this,

or this.

Or maybe neither. Doubt parades around everything. I catch a glimpse of the 20 yr. old backpacker in me. Shit, the last thing I want.

Argentina and Chile were amazing...but lacking some of the intrigue and novelty that I´m holding out hope Bolivia and Peru will soon provide. But even then, the big picture, does it add up? This is not about South America anymore, is it?

Not sure where I´ll be next Monday. The plan says Bolivia. My air ticket says Bolivia. My friends are going to Bolivia. It´s obviously Bolivia.

¨A dominant impulse on encountering beauty is the desire to hold on to it: to possess it and give it weight in our lives. There is an urge to say ´I was here, I saw this and it mattered to me.´ But beauty is fugitive, it is frequently found in places to which we may never return or else it results from a rare conjunction of season, light, and weather. How then to process it, how to hold on to the floating train (the sinking car), the halva-like bricks (the crumbled toilet) or the English valley (or the granite peaks)?¨ - The Art of Travel, p.218

¨We meet people who have crossed deserts, floated on icecaps and cut their way through jungles - and yet whose souls we would search in vain for evidence of what they have witnessed.¨ - Ibid, p.254

¨So this is, so this is, the new year. And I don´t feel any different.¨

Man, New Years is so overrated but hope yours went well anyways. I´m gonna try to post more random trip photos on Flickr from here on out. Peace.

I don´t have much to say about Buenos Aires. Seems like a fun place to live but definitely a handful for just a few days to visit. We spent a lot of time in cafes but few taking photos. Here´s some random ones.

Why is she so sad? Reminds me of the girls that had to dance with me during my tango class.

The Boca neighbourhood is colourful but only around the disappointing tourist section. This suburb is actually a pretty rough area where you are more likely to see poverty than coloured houses.

They play soccer everywhere.

Pete was smitten with this chick playing a metal drum instrument on the street. Her voice was really captivating.

I think this is some important museum or church. We didn´t actually go in.

The widest street in the world, about 8 lanes going each way. Pete and I stupidly tried to jaywalk across it once.

Reminiscent of the famous Montreal convenience store.

¨We have won it. Things are better now. You can sort of tell these things.¨

Just wanted to shout out a Merry Christmas and preemptive Happy New Year to everyone, wherever you are, whatever you´re doing. It was a wild Xmas Eve here in Argentina...didn´t make it home tilll 8am...story and photos coming shortly. Still, if there was ever a day or two I wish I was home, now would be it. I´d trade the sun and glamour of Buenos Aires for the snow and shenanigans of Toronto in a flash.

Thanks also to anyone who´s sent me an email over the past 7 weeks... and many apologies for not writing back. I´ll work on that in ´07.

Nos vemos.

Addendum (Dec. 29): I tried writing about Xmas Eve/Xmas but realized I couldn´t really capture or describe the events. In very brief, we incredulously ran into guys we met in El Bolson 2 weeks ago and followed them around the ghetto of Buenos Aires and eventually to a rock/ska party. They live in the area but appear homeless. They specialize in street art, street fighting, street dealing, and eating trash off the street. They found a half full beer bottle, wasn´t sure if it was beer or piss...one of them took a swig and then smashed the bottle on the ground...we´re guessing it was the latter. They were handing out tango cds as Xmas gifts...where they got these cds, who the hell knows. They temporarily lost their vial of coke but one guy had just dropped it on his nuts. They jumped up and down in celebration like little school girls when they found it. We walked 30 blocks through some rough neighbourhoods but had to cab the final 4 because they were too scared to walk across. THEY were too scared...wow. The party (held in a converted circus shed) had a live band, served only beer and only in 1 litre cups, showed hentai on a projector, and was absolutely electric. While people inside did whatever it was they were doing, old women and men danced outside and children lit off firecrackers till dawn. And then the long haired bearded scrawny hippie at the door refused to let people leave at 8am...he tried so hard to get everyone to go back inside and keep partying. The cab Andrew and I took home didn´t stop at red lights or intersections because of all the loonies and roughians parading the surrounding streets. I think I saw fires amongst the crowds too.

It may not sound that bad but it was much sketchier in person and yet so unbelievably genuine. You travel to have messed up experiences and this was one of my most memorable Xmas´s ever...for all the right reasons. I just wish I could properly explain it.

Damien (2nd last photo, far right) took all the above pictures for us (along with a hundred other really weird ones). I don´t think we´d still have our camera if we tried taking them ourselves. FYI, for those in the know, Damien is like the Colonel to the next level. So thanks dude. For some strange reason, I got a feeling I haven´t seen the last of you, your bro (3rd last photo w/ glasses), or the Doctor (1st photo) just yet.

The bus speeds down the highway leaving the dirt roads, rain, and chill of Ruta 40 and Patagonia behind. The driver is running behind schedule as he is slowed down by cyclists in the midst of a long distance road race. Growing increasingly frustrated, he continuously swerves around them by the slightest of margins so he can still yell obscenities at the riders. Alternatively, he might take control of the opposing lane, daring oncoming traffic not to take cover on the gravel shoulder. They flash him the bird in digust. He cares not. He´s on a 19hr mission to Mendoza and we´re just along for the ride.

Whether it be from back home, other travellers, or South Americans, more than a few people have commented what a great city Mendoza is. After 4 days here, it´s hard to argue. This place will cure any funk you might be in.

It didn´t start out so great however. Inexplicably, we followed some old kook to his house which was miles away from the city centre. That was the least of our problems though. This guy, whom we dubbed Old Man River, wouldn´t leave us alone. For what seemed like an eternity, he explained every little detail about the place including the ever difficult...how to turn on the gas stove and how to lock the door...I shit you not. Speaking of shit, he also taught me the secrets to cleaning up dog shit. We made an extra effort to spend that whole day out, return late at night, and leave before he woke up the next morning. Andrew made an early run for it...but was caught...only escaping by making an excuse he was in a rush to go to the beach (note: there is no beach within 10 hours of Mendoza). Pete and I weren´t so lucky. I could try to describe it in words but I think a picture would more accurately describe the moment. I´ll never hear an accordion again without shivering.

But ever since we hightailed it out of there, everything´s been pretty sweet. The food, namely the asado (bbq) is wild. This is an all you can eat buffet, rocking out at midnight on a Wednesday night. No really, the place was more alive than a lot of clubs and pubs back home.

And the Mendozan women...simply, wow. I have never seen seen so many gorgeous girls or taken so many cold showers in a single day than I have here. Out of this world. Here´s a sampling of our dates the other night.

We also decided to attend a tango class/social club, held in the basement of a bank/medical clinic. I think I am the first person to ever attempt the tango wearing hiking boots. The teacher and poor girls I danced with were really sweet but I think they were relieved to know I was leaving town before the next class.

Here´s my barber. Among the topics of discussion (with his wife by his side) were...the number of Canadian tourist paragliders that have died in Mendoza (2), his rastafarian son who is a rafting guide and throws wild jacuzzi parties (sadly, he is currently out of town), and his apologies for running out of dope so he couldn´t give me any. Four canadian dollars well spent.

Also rented bikes one day and rode around the massive park at the edge of town. I´ve always wondered how many kids you can fit onto a slide. Apparently a lot.

Later on my tire got a flat and I needed a new tube. After asking a around, I was led to the garage of a house where a 9 year old fixed my bike like a professional. Then he gave me his business card/calendar as a souvenir.

It´s a good thing my bike was working again because we stumbled upon a dirt bike course. It wasn´t even technically open but the guys running it let us ride around for free for a couple of hours. Andrew stacked it once and we both realized quickly why most bikers don´t wear flipflops.

Mendoza´s probably the first place in South America where I think I could actually live. The people are ridiculously chill and friendly for a city its size. The highest peak in South America (Acongagua) is only a couple hours away. Chile is also next door. Snowboarding is huge in the winters. If I actually appeciated wine, this is the mecca. And did I mention how stunning the girls are here? I am so sold.

Couple other random photos from the last week and a bit. Kayaking down the river and drinking maté (a strong Argentinian tea) in the park with Pedro, a local kid who likes to throw rocks at cars.