Wayward Travels

Friday, June 30, 2006

Two words...

This translates roughly to "sleeper car" and here, overnight, long-distance travel is mostly accomplished by bus. But Argentina´s bus lines put Greyhound to shame. Imagine a first-class seating on a plane pasted into a double-decker bus, complete with pillow, blankets, restroom, movies, dinner, breakfast and a friendly attentant. This is coche cama. Semi-cama is a little less nice and royal suite has a fully-reclining chair.
All in all, I feel decently rested after my 13-hour bus ride. A few drawbacks--since we were, in fact, driving and not flying, there was always a bit of "turbulence". Also, the food was not being welcomed by my stomach, and it was all I could do to not get sick. The movie was some Denzel Washington flick played on very high volume, which faded in and out, and was better faded out. Nonetheless, I find myself safely in Mendoza, center of Argentina´s wine country. Today´s plan revolves around the Argentina-Germany world cup quarter finals game, which starts shortly. I´ll wander about this afternoon and plan on visiting some bodegas and wineries tomorrow. Have a look through some old posts, as I´ve tried to add a few pictures. Also, thanks for all the comments (esp KR!).

Thursday, June 29, 2006

All´s well

There comes a time in one´s travelling when it is enough to simply be in a place. To simply be an intake valve and nothing more. That time has come for now. I am taking in Buenos Aires, from La Boca to Puerto Madero to Retiro to Recoleta. I am writing my own notes but do not have it in me to publish. For those readers interested in my these-days adventures, I apologize. For those readers simply checking to make sure I´m okay (mom!), then know I am.
Tonight I take a bus to Mendoza. All´s well. Perhaps I shall feel like writing more later.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Notes on Buenos Aires

Really I´ve only been here a short while, but below I will make a few notes about this capital city.
It is large, but highly navigable. Similar to San Francisco, it has several different barrios, each with its own character. That having been said, I´ve only really explored Palermo (a NW barrio) thus far. Recoleta, San Telmo, La Boca, and more will have to wait. It is a walker-friendly city with (mostly) orderly blocks and streets. There´s a system of numbering that I haven´t quite figured out yet, but I am sure that once I do, I won´t be nearly as lost as I have been. A wild mess of bus lines offers cheap transport within the city, but the underground "Subte" is far easier to understand. The subte is quite similar to the Boston T with colored lines and mural-walled stops and the occasional underground musician. Unlike the T, performers sometimes ride the train (my car was graced by an accordian player), who are met by the Argentine subway riders with a mix of indifference and generosity.
Although the street system is great for pedestrians, we walkers must yield the right of way to cars and dogs. Cars do a decent job of stopping at red lights (during the daytime), and coordinated walk signals make crossing easy. However, if you dare jaywalk by crossing a street at an improper location or time, do not expect any motorized vehicle to give one little hoot about slowing down for you. Cars are dueños of the roads (and even between them, they seem to jockey for position in a traffic system with clear rules but few discernable patterns). Stray dogs (and in the parks, feral cats) roam the streets as well. They appear far less mangy than stray dogs in US cities, and are typically rather tame and simply mind their own business much of the time. However, they leave their droppings as and where they please, aiming in particular for well-travelled sidewalks. This makes navigating the city extra tricky, for as one is trying to get one´s bearings, it is also necessary to keep your eyes on the ground ahead to sidestep one friendly doggie deposit after the next.
Palermo is a wonderful neighborhood. Emily and Sarah lived here when they had their apartment. It is strewn with beautiful and generally well-maintained sprawling parks, which boast rose gardens, ponds, and quite a few statues and busts. Argentines seem to love to build monuments. In nearly every plaza you will find a looming bronze statue of a war hero on horse or busts of poets or obelisks or fountains etc. Palermo also has a very fancy shopping mall, which rivals even the most upscale New Jersey mall. And New Jersey knows malls. Also in this area is a small but vibrant Armenian community, and thanks to them we enjoyed a fine lunch of babaganoush, falafel, tabouleh, and baklavah (also an allergy to sésamo prevented me from enjoying the first and last dishes). Italian immigration has also been a very big part of Argentine history. For instance, have a look at the last names of the fútbol team in the world cup... As many Italian names as Spanish. By the way, the next World Cup game for Argentina is Friday, against Germany. So you know what I´ll be doing then... Also in Palermo are the Japanese Garden and MALBA (the musuem for modern/contemporary Latin American art). I enjoyed both of these yesterday and was particularly impressed with the museum, which I found to be very well-curated and not overwhelming (http://www.malba.org.ar/web/en/collection/index.php). I can take museums in doses, and the exhibits there were just right. I enjoyed a number of the artists, and would like to see more of their work. The Museo de Bella Arte might be on my to-do list for BA.
Emily and Sarah leave this evening (they are packing their bags as I type) and this makes me a bit sad. I have enjoyed our week together and I´ll miss travelling with them. I have a feeling that I might feel a bit lonely and homesick tonight. As it is, I have secured a spot in a hostel in the center of town. My bed is one of ten in a room, so I will not be alone even if I am lonely. I hope that I will not be kept awake too badly by those enjoying the nightlife of Buenos Aires. As for the rest of the trip from here on out, I don´t really know what I´m going to do or where I´m going to go. I´ll spend another day in BA at the very least and of course several days more at the end of the trip. Beyond that, all I know is that I want to go to Mendoza, Córdoba, and Iguazú. These places are all rather far away (though not as far as Ushuaia!) so I´ll be passing many hours on a bus. Many hours.
My fingers are casi congelados (just about frozen) and there is a cat that has been dancing all around me, making strange googley-eyes at me, and that has asconded the chair for this computer.... I think it is time to go.

Monday, June 26, 2006

"Escogimos mal"

It´s not so much a case of being lost. I mean, we knew exactly where we were. It´s just that we had no idea where we were supposed to be.
I am talking about our attempt at hiking to Glaciar Martial outside Ushuaia. It all began just swell: a taxi ride up a mountain road, a chair lift up part of the mountain (my first time, not so easy for us acrophobes), and then a simple 1.5 hour hike to the glacier. Plenty of signs warned us to not walk on the glacier without a guide due to fissures and crevaces and all that. Good advice, to be sure. Well we tromped through snow and ice up the valley along to the river and drank in the view ahead of us--sun-kissed snowy peaks soared on all sides, clawing at the wisps of clouds that floated by. The characteristic U-shape of the valley was a clue that a glacier had to be somewhere nearby (at least in the past hundred thousand years), but it was wildly unclear which way the glacier was. We saw two main options--a steep snowy and rocky ascent to our left and a steep snowy and rocky ascent to our right. We didn´t take the left way, but I wouldn´t exactly saw we made the "right" choice (oh the foreshadowing!). So we trekked up the right face of the valley, heading towards a saddle that loomed high above and oh-not-so-far-away. We scrambled up icy, snow-covered scree (defined as "Loose rock debris covering a slope" or "A slope of loose rock debris at the base of a steep incline or cliff"), and post-holed through Patagonian snow of unknown depth. The hiking was at best tricky, but became tiring and eventually turned risky. You see, the final ascent asked us (so we thought) to traverse a snowy, rocky slope with a 60-degree face (Reader: stop. think about how steep this is. continue.) before crawling up the side of the saddle. This traverse was to be executed about a hundred feet above the nearest floor of the the valley and without, of course, any mountaineering gear whatsoever. We began to slowly scamper across until my fear of heights collided with the realization of exactly how stupid and dangerous this was (more stupid than dangerous, actually) and I froze on this snowy slope. There was no going further; retreat was the only option. Emily and I decided to descend directly to the valley floor along the steep face while Sarah retraced her traversed and decided to re-attempt the ascent on other "path" where a Czech fellow named Stepan was walking along (we had briefly encountered this character at a mid-hike lunch rest). Now, those of you that know even a little about physics will appreciate the fact that (a) the coeffecient of friction between me and snow is small, (b) the vertical vector component of gravity on a 60-degree incline is large, and (c) gravity goes down. Climbing down this very tall snowy face was a terrifying task, and the best comfort I could find was the fact that if I were to slip, at least I´d be headed in the right direction--down. In the end, I managed to devise a method which involved using my hands and feet as though I was wearing crampons (which I was not) to kick holds into the snow and descend a sort of snow ladder. The funny thing was that up and down seemed to lose meaning as I swung and kicked my way down, bit by bit. All I had was the snow in front of me and the knowledge that looking in any other direction would send me spinning. You can exhale now, for I made it down safely. Sarah and Stepan succeeded at cresting the saddle. With regard to our choice of the snowy traverse verses the "path," Sarah informed Emily and me that "escogimos mal" (we chose poorly), but both she and Stepan assured us that the view was absolutely unbelievable. Great.
Stepan said he´d send photos. Then, on the face that Emily and I had so carefully descended, Stepan sat on his nalgitas (bum) and slid the whole way down, acquiring an impressive speed and using his feet as brakes. Yep, we felt stupid. I got over it and slid on my nalgitas for several parts of the rest of the frightening descend. In the end, we never found Glaciar Martial, nor am I even sure where exactly we should have gone to find it.
To really round out our little adventure, we walked our snowy, cold, wet selves into the "Casa de Té" at the base of the chairlift, a small little teahouse that served "chocolates, café, y cosas ricas." We appreciated the many flowered decorating each wall and corner of the place as Celine Dion graced our ears. The cosas ricas were nonetheless delicious (including mermelada made from the el calafate shrub).
We made it home with enough time to thaw, dry, and eat before going to the airport to wait there for four hours for our characteristically tardy flight. Without sleep last night, we made it to Buenos Aires today in the early AM, and I have busied myself roaming about the city´s neighborhood of Palermo. But this is a different story, and will have to wait until later.

Saturday, June 24, 2006

¡Vamos Argentina!

Remember that silly game called baseball that Americans seem to love so much? It is a sport followed by few (worldwide, anyway) and it divides a nation in as much as teams are supported by city, or at best a region. Remember the Red Sox winning the World Series? I´m not saying that is no big deal. But just hold in your mind how big a deal that was, and then pretend we´re talking about a sport that the rest of the world is fanatical about, and further pretend we are united as a nation-team, and imagine our national team is playing in the one-every-four-years Grandmama of all Superbowls. We´ll call this fútbol and we´ll call it the World Cup. Got the picture? Oh, I forgot to add just one little itty-bitty piece to this. You see, now that you have the backdrop, imagine your team has just beat Mexico in a tooth-to-tooth high-intensity overtime game. Everyone in the bar is on their feet, chanting national sport fight songs and cheering, waving blue-and-white flags, clapping, yelling. The bar empties as hundreds of absolutely thrilled fans (which is everyone, by the way) spill into the streets, the crowd grows, music blares, cars waving flags crawl through the masses, blaring horns and flashing lights. Cheering and waving and mosh-pit jumping appears as a pulsing wave of light blue and white excitement. Welcome to Argentina.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Los numeros de hoy son...

Alright, today´s entry will begin with some very special numbers... "numeros con pares" (even numbers). They are 4, 2, 6, and 8. A bit of background... we arrived in Ushuaia two days ago. We took a cramped flight on which I had with a "window" seat with a complete and entire view of the engine (and nothing else), and then took a taxi from the airport to the hotel (which is really another cabin run by a couple as a sort of Bed and Breakfast). Our cab driver was loco and totally impressive. I was filled with terror as well as awe as he speedily navigated through icy streets, pattern-less traffic, and hills like San Francisco. To remind you, Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world, and since most readers are in the US now, I would like to point out that (a) our heads are pointing in different directions ...think of us on a globe, and (b) it´s freaking winter here! So, yesterday we went hiking in El Parque Nacional de Tierra del Fuego. We tromped through a freshly snow-blanketed trail along the southern coast of the island, overlooking the Beagle Channel (so named for Darwin´s boat) and the islands beyond. It was a wonderfully calm, peaceful, magestic, and beautiful hike. The only catch was that it was a bit hard to find the trail every so often (what with the snow and all), and at one point we had to turn around for lack of any visible marked route. Since the days are so short (about 9:30 am to about 4:30 pm), it was a bit of a race against the sun to make it back to the road. Fortunately, following our own tracks back was easier than navigating untrodden powder. Totally randomly, we saw a family of wild horses (which eyed us suspiciously). I must say, it was really good to be outside, doing something physical, and doing something not at all expensive or touristy.

Today we went to "the valley" for "winter activities." We elected to "esquiar del fondo" and try "un tríneo de perros." But back to our numbers. Do you remember what they were?

Four: This is the number of limbs the average person has. This is also the number of long, awkward implements one must attach to those limbs when cross-country skiing. Now, to coordinate four limbs is tricky at best (have you seen me dance?), but to navigate all this with skis and poles protruding from those limbs at right angles is downright near impossible. We made an attempt at cross-country skiing today and I must say, I am pretty much awful at it. I had a great time and can fairly claim that I have improved. For those out there who would like to try "esquiar del fondo," read on for advice.

Two: If four is the number of awkward extension from your limbs, then (and experience has proven this), you must keep in mind what I call "the rule of Two." No two of those extensions (skis or poles) must ever cross each other. If your skis cross each other, or if your pole should end up between your skis, then you will end up with the next number...

Six: The number of times, in one hour of skiing, that I fell down. Falling down is not really the problem at all. In fact, it is pretty comical (I learned to laugh, eventually), and since it happens so fast it doesn´t hurt at all. The tricky part is getting back up. Remember that magic number four? Well, the poles you can let go of... but the skis are oh-so-firmly attached to your feet. I´ll leave the rest to your imagination, but let me remind you that knees are only designed to bend in one direction.

And so I have tried cross-country skiing. I wish I could tell you the scenery was amazing, but mostly what I saw were the tips of my skis, as I was giving each glorious gliding motion my absolute full attention. One more number...

Eight: This is the number of huskie dogs that pulled the bobsled ride we took after lunch! Like Antarctic explorers (did you know that Argentina has a claim on a wedge of that icy continent?), we went trotting through the same path we had skiied (in about one-fifth the time, including pee breaks for the dogs). At this point I had the chance to really appreciate the wintry landscape, which was flanked on each side by incisor-like mountains. The mountains aren´t big, but they are pointy and jagged and close and magestic, and I kind of felt like I was inside the frigid mouth of a giant and very rocky shark. Very, very cool.

Okay, one more number. Three is the number of flushing experiments I have done to investigate this Southern Hemisphere business. The toilet in our cabin flushes clockwise, but that is primarily due (I am pretty sure) to the way the water flow is set up in the bowl. (Have I mentioned that here, as in other Latin American countries, one does not put TP in the toilet, but rather in a separate little trash bin... the septic systems can´t deal with the TP.) Unimpressed by the toilet, I filled a big pot of water and dumped it into the sink. As the water began to drain, the vortex formed did in fact spin COUNTERCLOCKWISE. I have no idea how this compared to the Northern Hemisphere, but I did it three times with repeatable results. There you have it.

Thanks to those who write and post comments. Even if I can´t reply individually to each of you, know that it means a lot to read your words.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

I take it all back.

I don´t fully remember what I said about glaciers, but I remember it wasn't much. This is just as well because what I saw yesterday pales in comparison to what I saw today. I take back anything I said about glaciers. We three returned to El Parque Nacional de los Glaciares but this time we took a car with a kind fellow named Juan, who explained the story behind the town of El Calafate (a paste from the calafate plant root was used to fix a leaky canoe, so far as I could understand) and told us about Glaciar Perito Moreno, the most famous glacier here and the one we saw today. The thing about Moreno is that it formed due to a gap in the mountains which allows storms to cross into the Argentinian side of Patagonia from Chile. The extra precipitation in the form of snow adds to the glacier and further compacts it into very hard ice. All this is fine and good, except that Moreno happens to advance (remember, glaciers are very slow moving rivers of ice) in such a way that it creates a dam of sorts between Lago Argentino and Brazo Rico, another arm of the lake. Lago Argentino drains to the sea through several rivers, but Moreno blocks waters in Brazo Rico from draining in the lake, and thus a difference in water levels begins to build. As water builds up in Brazo Rico, an enormous amount of pressure is exerted on the glacier, which is acting as a dam in the first place. Meanwhile, remember that the ice is highly compacted and very strong, and won't simply yield. A LOT of pressure can accrue, but eventually (every dozen years or so) the enormous ice dam ruptures. This is, as you can imagine, rather beyond the imagination. We didn't see anything this spectactular (the last big break was in 2004), but that didn't detract from Moreno's immensity and grand splendor. From an outcrop across the canal from the glacier face, we saw several huge ice chunks calve off and tumble into the lake. You cannot replicate this sight or noise, nor can you represent the sound of cracks forming in the glacier, booming ruptures and fissure crackling. The glacier itself is enormous and mesmerizing, and since we saw it from land (as opposed to from a boat, like yesterday), we could see it from above and appreciate its vastness. I would have been very happy to sit and stare for hours. And this, I must add, would have been completely possible, for though we are in the middle of Patagonian winter, I am blessed with good, warm gear. I like good gear. On the ride home we saw some condors (quite a few) soaring magestically (if not ominously) over a bit of carrion.
This evening we played cards, watched a bit of the World Cup (if you aren't doing this, then you are not a citizen of the world... the entire globe outside the United States is glued to this), and then went for a bit of a jog. Some of you know that I recently completed a half-marathon. I don't know how it happened, because I am now gasping for breath at even one chilly, downhill mile. Go figure.
Tomorrow we leave for "the uttermost part of the world" as we head to Ushuaia. Anything could happen.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Los glaciares

It kind of stinks that I´m paying for internet by the minute because I´ve been staring at the screen for several moments wondering where the heck to begin. Are there words for glaciers? Sure, you´ve got ones like "big" and "ice" and the like, but we must find ones that transcend those and go even beyond words like "unbelievable" and "magestic" and "blue blue blue". I cannot attempt even to describe these moving rivers of ice, for I am still lifting my jaw up off the ground. So I won´t. I´ll simply narrate that Em and Sarah and I awoke several hours before dawn (which is at about 9:30 am here!) to get in a bus to go to El Parque Nacional de los Glaciares. From there, we took a boat out onto the glacier-formed Lago Argentino, whose green-blue waters (called "glacial milk" for their color, which is due to mineral sediments suspended in the water) are fed by several glaciers. In the water floated icebergs, which in some ways were more impressive than the glaciers because we could see them from much closer. You would not believe how blue there are. It didn´t seem real--were these things frozen raspberry ICEEs or water? We even saw one iceberg that had just flipped over and was bobbing (in a monstrous and massively slow way) back and forth trying to rebalance itself. But since the underside was now exposed, we could see that indeed most of the iceberg remains underwater and, because the ice is more compressed there, it is even bluer. Unbelievable. We cruised about the lake a bit, visiting Glaciar Spagazzinni y Glaciar Upsala, the tallest and largest ones in the region. We then docked and hiked a short way over to Lago Ornelli for lunch, where we could see two more glaciers feeding this smaller and much more frozen lake. I will hope that pictures speak a thousand words and all that, since I can´t describe much of what I saw today well enough. Hopefully I can upload them soon. Otherwise, go to google images and type "Patagonia glaciers"...you´ll get the idea.
In the end, the trek we wanted to do on the glaciers proper is not running, so we went with the boat instead. Tomorrow we´ll hike around the park a bit and see Glaciar Perito Moreno, the most famous one here that is known for the icebergs that calve off it.
In other news, I have not resolved the toilet issue as the flush does not seem to go one way or another. I also should say that a "simple" hot chocolate I had on the boat was way better than any one I´ve had at a fancy american coffee shop. Some things are just better here.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Livin´ La Vida Loca...

Not. While Argentines are curling their hair and applying mascara to go out, I am crawling into my bunk bed in the hostel. And as I am eating breakfast, they are just coming in from las milongas and the clubs. To be fair, I tried to go out last night but Chris was chatting it up with his Welsh and English roommates in the bar of his hostel. It was an interesting sight--bunches of gringos sitting and drinking beer in a hostel with other viajeros, all speaking in English. Is this why we are here? It seems silly to me. But I do appreciate this sort of brotherhood of backpackers. I´ll take what I like and leave the rest, thank you very much. As I turned in "early" (1 am or so), I didn´t see my bunk-mates, and in fact they hadn´t returned even as I left this morning. Nonetheless, I managed to catch the local bus (No. 45) to El Aeroparque, but not without the requisite running after the diesel-spewing monster through the streets of BA. It turns out this El Aeroparque is a sleek new airport as nice or better than any I´ve seen in the US. My flight to El Calafate went all to plan, and I didn´t get diverted to a different airport and then have to take a 5-hour bus ride due to poor visibility, as Em and Sarah had to do. So yes, I am here in El Calafate, in freaking Patagonia! A question: what are you wearing? What´s the ambient temperature as you read this? It´s just above freezing here, and I´ve been living in long underwear and multiple fleeces. It is so great to finally be with Em and Sarah. We are speaking only in Spanish, and miraculously we are communicating quite well. I must now go, but stay tuned for stories of glaciers and ice. It may be days before I write again, so don´t worry (you know who you are).
Side note: I keep forgetting to have a close look at which way the water flows in drains and flushing toilet bowls here in the Southern Hemisphere, but I´ll keep you posted when I do!

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Estoy aqui!

Somehow I am here in this alternate reality called Buenos Aires. My flight from Miami was spent chatting with a fast-speaking woman from Montevideo and sleeping fitfully. I arrived at the airport with no idea about where to go or how exactly to get there. I managed to find a bus that took me "al centro, por favor," but somehow I ended up at a seemingly random bus station. Not to worry, though, for I was then escorted into a car with two other strangers to get into town. One of my fellow passengers turned out to be Chris, a recent college grad from Austin, Texas. He is about to start an internship in Cordoba for five months, but for the moment we are companeros de viaje for the day. We have toured some of the city already, mostly wandering and exclaiming, "Oh! Isn´t that the ?!¨and then walking some more. We have struck up a nice mix of English and Spanish, and I am reminded of how good I used to be at Spanish and how bad I am now. Simple words that I used to know are lost to me. After a small adventure in "tiempo argentino," I have found a hostel to stay in for tonight. I have been warned of the pace of things here and already I am learning that "espera solo dos minutos, por favor" really means "have a seat and don´t hold your breath." It think it will take me a few days to shake the northeasterner anxiety about time, but I´ll settle in.
The city thus far is great, but altogether quieter than I expected. I suppose Saturday is a low-key day and being Latin America, I am sure things don´t pick up much until later in the day.
Bueno, there are sights to describe but I must go. I am well, however, and excited to be here.`

Friday, June 16, 2006

The precipice...

It's 73 degrees in Boston and I'm about to head onto a glacier in the dead of Patagonian winter. This is a good idea, right?

My bags are packed (thank you, Danielle) and all I've got left to do is quell the unrest I feel in my peritoneum. I've traveled abroad before and overall am not too worried about any one thing. Rather a collection of grain-sized uncertainties is causing irritation: maybe my Spanish won't suddenly come back to me as I am hoping (subjunctive/imperfect? ser/estar? what?!), maybe I haven't prepared well enough logistically and mentally (this is true, actually), maybe everything will change here while I'm away, maybe I'll encounter ladrones, maybe I didn't pack everything I needed, maybe I packed too much. I've been zipping about with a gigantic to-do list in the last week as I've been finishing up the school year and throwing things into my pack and saying good-byes to people moving far away... Sameer suggested I publish my to-do list but I never want to see that document again, so below is a different list.

To give you a sense of what is to come, I will be flying from Boston to Buenos Aires (via Miami) this evening. I'll spend a night in the city and then fly to El Calafate to meet my friends Emily and Sarah who have lived in BA for ten months and are now touring the country before returning stateside. We'll explore the glaciers from El Calafate and then head to the southernmost city in the world, Ushuaia, which is actually the launching point for Antarctica. I hope you all will be enjoying your summer picnics this June in the northern hemisphere. After exploring "Tierra del Fuego" and southern Patagonia, the three of us will return to BA for a few days. Em and Sarah will then depart, and I'll be left to my own devices to experience as-yet-to-be-determined parts of the country.

Still, with all of the butterflies and the unknown, I am excited. The six weeks I spent in Guatemala were some of the best of my life. I look back on that time recall feeling fully alive and fully present. I don't get that most days here in the work-a-day world of Wellesley. That having been said, I'm off to empty the contents of my refrigerator into my stomach, flit around my bag wondering what else to take or take out, and meet my ride to the airport for a tough good-bye. This time tomorrow, I'll be waking up in the land of tango.

1 pair pants
2 short-sleeve shirts
1 long-sleeve T
2 zip-up fleeces
1 pull-over fleece
underwear and socks (not too many)
1 pair shorts
1 pair fleece pants
warm coat
warm hat gloves
Cubs cap
rain gear
long underwear
1 wrap-around skirt (useful as clothing, towel, blanket, wrapping!)
hiking boots

Nalgene with duct tape
water purification tablets
extra glasses
ziplock bags
knife (I lost my nice one but found one at the One-Spot at Target today!)
fork and spoon
camera and computer link
laundry detergent (haven't found this yet!)
bandana day pack

Important Stuff
flight/hotel info
copies of documents
traveler's cheques
cash (dollars)
cash (pesos)
emergency contact info

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Yes. This. Is. A. Blog.

Stay tuned for all the stories you never knew you didn't want to hear about my trip to Argentina...