The Recap

We're into our last few days here. Sad.

Matias has already given you a glimpse of the following; sorry for the repetition.

Last Sunday, we went to see Phoenix at La Trastienda, a popular venue in San Telmo. I'd been wanting to catch this group in NYC for a while, but it seemed that they were eternally stuck in Europe. Fantastic show! I almost didn't mind all of the young Argentines who felt the need to hop up and down onto my foot or who incessantly flipped their hair into my face. It seems that a wonderful by-product of uncoordinated, en masse dancing is that if you shove someone out of frustration, it's interpreted as some sort of expression of euphoria (Me: Shove. [Get off of my foot!] Young Argentine: Happy face. [Thanks for shoving me.])

From Monday through Friday we were in Patagonia (generally speaking, the south of Argentina). We arrived in El Calafate Monday morning after three hours of turbulence and proceeded to the bus station, where we took a 3 and 1/2 hour bus North to El Chaltén. Our invigorating, and equally exhausting, hike was an interesting way to punctuate our 12 hours of travel. I credit it with my ability to sleep (for almost 12 hours) through my fear of hypothermia, the windstorm, and the sloped ground that kept causing us to slide towards the bottom of our tent.

The following day we hiked back down to town and into a hostel. Highlight: when we asked for one room with one bed, the receptionist literally cackled, for 15 seconds. After she composed herself, she said something like, Whatever people want to do is fine by me. Gee, thanks.

Our decision to move into a hostel was wise nonetheless: The wind (and some rain) were overwhelming at night. Howling. Serious howling.

We spent the next 3 days in El Calafate. The purpose of our visit to this culture-less and purely touristic town wasn't the 12-peso beers (note: 3 to 9 peso beers are common in Buenos Aires), but to see one of the only still-growing glaciers in the world--global warming...that's soooooo 2006. Perito Moreno, named after the independently wealthy, Argentine explorer, is part of the 3rd largest glacier ice field in the world (preceded by the ones in Antarctica and Greenland). Though it's not the largest glacier within the Patagonian field, it's the most accessible to tourists. Oh, and did I mention that it's marvelous?

We spent most of the day waiting for a part of the wall to rupture and fall into the lake (Lago Argentina: the largest lake in the country). Any time that the slightest bit of ice drizzled, about three hundred people gasped. A lot of build-up; no climax. The next grand rupturing of the glacier is expected to happen in February-March. But never mind us; we were content to be awestruck by the glacier's grandness and to spend several days living off of crackers with quince paste (dulce de membrillo), cheese, salami, and tuna fish.

On Thursday night, our last night, we splurged on a fantastic dinner at La Tablita. Matias was starved for cordero patagonico (Patagonian lamb). Earlier, during our trip to the glacier, our bus was forced to stop for a sheep crossing. Two cowboys/herders and three amazingly trained dogs herded hundreds of sheered lambs across a highway. At one point, a baby lamb (Mary's, I'm sure) was left behind, and the herder asked Matias to lift it from the ground. He did. And then sent it on its way (Awwwww!). Ironically, Matias may have eaten its mother for dinner that night.

Despite that possibility, we had a fantastic dinner. Food was good. And we were seated next to a German and a Brit, with whom we chatted all night. In the end, we decided two things: that the US disproportionately exports arms, compared with its own domestic use (which in and of itself is not too shabby). And that most immigration "problems" in this world are a direct result of the colonial and imperialist histories (and presents) of a handful of the countries that now experience said problems. All and all, a very productive evening.

Flying back to Buenos Aires was an uneventful and completely sober three hours. But entering Buenos Aires reminded me that, while i enjoy getting away from the hustle, and sometimes the bustle, of big cities, I'm most at home when my adrenaline levels are comfortably resting at "hyper-vigilant." (i think that's like a "burnt sienna," according to the Dept. of Homeland Security.)

Besides, where else are you going to spend your Friday evening at a dance recital named "Queer Dance," which we did last night? Not El Chalten. Nor Wilkes-Barre, Penn. The show was fantastic. Experiment at its bravest and most honest. It was a great date with Matias and his folks. Followed by a great dinner.

I think that we may need to find a way to incorporate vacation into our everyday lives.

Five days left till we head home.

Three hundred and twenty four days until regime change. And then maybe some accountability...

PS: We've added more photos.