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!