Damn it, just one more country left. On to Brazil!!

It was actually a chaotic mess trying to get out of Iguasu.  It happened to be that there was only one bus per day from Iguasu to Rio, and it left at 1:15 every afternoon.  Clearly I couldn’t have made it on the bus the day I’d seen the falls, so I had to stay at the hostel another night.  James had decided he would also stay one more night so he could see the falls from the Brazilian side, and though I wanted to too, the timing was going to be too close for me to get back and make the bus.

Another day, another bus.

So the next morning, I woke up, had breakfast, said goodbye to my new friend James, and went to buy my bus ticket.  After I sat down and inquired about buying a ticket to Rio, the woman smiled and told me the bus was sold out.  

SHIT!  NO!  This was super bad news... If I have to stay another night, this meant that I could have gone to the falls again today, so now I was just going to have to sit in this town again and wait for tomorrow’s bus.  No good.

I went back to the hostel and sat next to the only other person who was still there.  We started chatting and I told her how bummed I was because I needed to get to Rio asap.  That was when she told me that she was the one who got the last ticket.  

Then I slapped her.  No, not really, but I kind of wanted to slap her.  Instead though, before I had time to say anything, she told me that there was actually a big chance that she wouldn’t be able to get on the bus because she was waiting for her Brazilian visa to be ready.  After some talking, we decided that at 12:45, we would both go to the bus station with all of our stuff and if she got her visa, she’d go.  If the visa wasn’t ready, I’d buy it off her at full price.  It was a good deal for her because otherwise she could have only received 20% of the ticket price back.

At 12:45, with our packs on our backs, we marched up to the bus station. I was mentally preparing myself for a let-down and started coming up with ideas for an extra night.  Maybe I could finally blog some more so Taryn wouldn’t harass me about posting?  Or maybe I could watch a DVD that wasn’t a violent American action flick like the ones shown on the buses?

My new friend, Jamie, enjoying the trip.

We put our stuff down and I sat and watched it as she went to the visa office.  I was starting to day dream about what movie I’d watch that night when she came back, ticket held out to me and said, “Well, it’s yours.  My visa won’t be ready today.”

Yay!!  It took me a minute to actually get excited because I had gotten a little lost in the whole blogging/DVD fantasy, but finally I snapped to and we got up to go switch things around.  She went to the ticket office to get my name put on the ticket and I ran to an ATM to get the cash to pay her.  (As a side note, this was the first time in weeks that I had run anywhere, and even in flip flops, it felt amazing and it has renewed my interest in running whenever I can purchase myself a new pair of trainers.)

On my way back from my glorious run, I saw two people I had met one night in Buenos Aires.  We chatted for a minute and I found out they were going back to BA but the two guys they were with, Jamie and Sweeny (henceforth known as “Sweety” because that’s what I thought he said his name was) were on the same bus to Rio.

And that is how I ended up going with another 2 random guys to yet another city.  Rio, here we come.

Iguazu Falls: out to kick Niagara’s ass

The first look...

After finally getting out of Beef Town, I got on yet another monster bus ride to see something I had been told to see 657 times since I’d planned this trip: Iguazu Falls.  

The Iguazu Falls are a series of monster waterfalls that are along part of the border between Argentina and Brazil.  Apparently, once upon a time, after seeing them, Eleanor Roosevelt said "Poor Niagara!!”  

I was a little weary about seeing them, to be honest.  I wasn't scared or anything like that, but for better or for worse, I am that person who sees a natural wonder and 5 minutes says, “Okay, where to now?”  That's basically what I said at the Grand Canyon when I had instead expected to have some kind of epiphany about life when I saw that massive hole in the ground.  

So, I’ve come to realize that when someone tells me that something is absolutely mesmerizing, breathtaking, or moving, I just need to prepare myself for another Grand Canyon moment.  If I happen to have an epiphany one of these days, I’ll be sure to tell you all.

Anyway, I boarded another bus, this one taking 19 hours, and I didn’t know a single person.  I thought that maybe this would be the side trip where I finally had to deal with being totally alone, but as the bus ride came to an end, and I saw there were only 3 other people left on the bus, I asked if they had places to stay yet.  The French woman did, but the other two guys, James and Will, had no idea where to stay.  I told them that I had a place and they asked if they could join me.  Boom - roommates.  

The three of us walked to the hostel, dropped off our stuff, watched a World Cup game, and decided we’d go to bed early so we could get up at 7am to get to the park when it opened.  None of us wanted to stay in Iguazu for too long because we were all short on time.  We debated trying to see the falls from both the Argentina and Brazil sides, but we didn’t know if we’d be able to do that AND get a bus out that night.  

James & Will taking it all in.

James, Will, and I got the to falls and first went down the trails that take you above the falls.  Amazing.  I couldn’t believe the size and power of the waterfalls.  I suddenly had the urge to sit down on a rock, close my eyes, and just listen to the water for a few hours.  We saw several of the falls and then moved onto the lower circuit of trails where you are put at a lower level and can get an up close perspective.  We got a little wet, getting hit by the spit of the falls, and prepared to take one of the boat rides below.  

I asked the guys if we should get water ponchos so we wouldn’t get soaked.  James’ response was, and I quote verbatim, “What?  Why?  It’s only water, it’s not going to be a big deal.”

30 minutes or so later, we had taken our not such a big deal boat ride where we were taken practically under the falls, and there was not an inch of us not saturated with water.  Thanks, James.  Luckily, he was the one wearing jeans as I was wearing my ugly backpacker quick-dry pants.  HA!

Devil's Throat

The last thing to do at the falls was to take the train to Devil’s Throat: an area that is at the very top of the largest part of the falls.  After getting off the train, you have to walk over a series of bridges, in a huge build-up, until you finally reach the main attraction.  

Okay, I admit it, it was pretty fantastic.  The sheer force, amount, and power of the water  is impossible to not be, at the very least, amazed by.  The falls hit the water below so hard, that there is a strong spray below that doesn’t lift and you can’t really tell where that spot is.  

After taking a ton of photos, Will handed James and I a coin and said, “Let’s make a wish.  There’s no better place.”  Will tossed his first, flipping it off his thumb.  I went second, throwing mine as far out to see where I would visually lose it.  Lastly, James looked at his coin, gave it a kiss, and let it fall out of his hands.

Iguazu: done.

More words about food: Part II - Argentina and the whole cow I consumed.

Everyone knows that Argentina has some of the best steak and wine in the world. I came to Argentina being aware of that, but also planning to take it easy on both. I’ve never been a big read meat person and actually for a few years in my teens, I didn’t eat it at all. And the wine? Well, I’d had enough partying in Bolivia to warrant a rest.

After the salt flats trip, where we had been fed bread, soup, and llama and hadn’t had a shower in 3 days, Brendan, Caitlin, Moya, Jack and I decided that our first move would be to find a hostel in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile, take showers, and get a nice meal. Following the first two things on our to-do list, we went to a restaurant that served fantastic food and we debated: do we get a steak now, here in Chile, or do we wait for a steak in Argentina where the beef is supposed to be out of this world? We opted to wait and instead ordered salmon, which, to be fair, was absolutely incredible and tasted better than a steak would have tasted at that moment.

The next day, we all got in yet another bus to go to Salta, Argentina, a city with incredible architecture and food. During the trip, we researched and debated about which hostel and restaurant to go to when we arrived. Our bus didn’t get into Salta until 9pm, so we hurriedly got to our hostel, dropped off our things, and went to find one of the restaurants that was in the book. When we got there, it was closed. When we got to the second one? Also closed. Noooooo!

So we opted to go to an Irish pub and yes, we still ordered steaks. It was a simple steak, seasoned only with salt and pepper with a salad on the side, but man, was it good. Maybe it was just because we all had wanted this to be an amazing steak, and it ended up being a self-fulfilling prophesy, but if this was the only steak I would have had in Argentina, I think I would have been happy.

The next day, Caitlin and Brendan left to go do a quick trip to Iguasu Falls, and Moya, Jack and I stayed in Salta. This day is what I now consider to be the first real day of my eating insanity. Here begins a detailed and slightly embarrassing account of what was consumed.

Day 1: Salta with Moya and Jack

-While walking to the bus station to buy my ticket to Cordoba and their tickets to Iguasu, we passed a bunch of booths that were selling various street foods. We each decided to get an empanada, which for those of you who are unfamiliar with them, are delicious pastry-filled treats that have (usually) chicken or beef inside along with seasoning and perhaps a few veggies. --We all agreed that the empanadas were among the best we’d ever had and we would be happy to eat 10 more each.

-But instead of 10 more, we waited until after buying our tickets to go back to one of the restaurants that had been closed the day before. This restaurant specialized in traditional Argentinean cuisine, so we each got a stew. Mine had beef, bacon, beans, and veggies cooked in a broth for who knows how long until it all practically disintegrated when your fork hit it. Oh, we also had some unbelievable bread and shared a bottle of wine, a malbec.

-After chilling out at the hostel for a few hours watching a couple movies on the couch, we decided to get some dinner before I was sent off on my bus to Cordoba. We settled on a restaurant called Bonny and Clyde’s, and we each ordered steaks. This time I got mine with mushrooms on top and I think I could have cut it easily with a butter knife.

Days 2 & 3: Cordoba with Verena

Giving a complete run-down of Cordoba with Verena would both make this blog entry too long and would repeat some things I wrote in my entry about Verena, so I will not be specific but will only say that in Cordoba, I enjoyed: a fried seafood empanada, a shared plate of various fried seafood, an alfojore, dulce de leche spread on bread, a 3 course dinner at Verena’s friends restaurant, and my homemade chicken marsala (which was probably the healthiest thing of the bunch.)

Day 4: Buenos Aires with Caitlin and Brendan

-This was the day that I arrived in BA at 5:30am and had to go to two hostels before finding the one whose couch I slept on. After Caitlin and Brendan met up we me, we enjoyed a lunch of caprese sandwiches and shared a monster brownie that was covered in dulce de leche and meringue.

-For dinner, we decided to go to an all-you-can-eat parilla. I convinced myself that I could still eat healthy if I ate a lot from the salad bar before hitting the meat... Once there, we automatically had 2 bottles of wine put in front of us. I ate a plate of salad but could not say no to the massive grill of meats calling out to me. After trying about 6 different types of meat, I was stuffed. That is, until our waitress asked us which dessert we wanted because it was included. So, a plate of 3 perfiteroles later, I was done.

Day 5: Buenos Aires with Caitlin, Brendan, Jack, and Moya

-Jack and Moya met the other three of us at our new hostel around 11:15am and we decided to just go downstairs to the restaurant there to grab a quick lunch. I ate what I thought would be a small ham and cheese toasty (basically a ham and cheese sandwich that has been put in a panini press but without butter on the bread) but it ended up being massive. I ate half and gave the rest to Jack.

-After going to La Boca and seeing the tango and gaucho dancers, we stopped at Freddos to get some famous Argentinean ice cream. I got a small cup with 2 flavors: mint chocolate chip and vanilla.

-That evening, our hostel was hosting a free pizza party and pool tournament so we stayed there that night and ate the free food.

Day 6: Buenos Aires with Caitlin, Brendan, Jack, and Moya

-This was Caitlin and Brendan’s last day of their trip, so we wanted to go out with a bang. For breakfast, we had the free breakfast included at our hostel: coffee with milk, bread with jelly, and croissants.

-We went to Polermo to explore and decided to stop at a restaurant to grab lunch. We all ordered burgers and shared an appetizer plate that consisted of anything you can imagine fried.

-While shopping around, Moya pointed out her favorite cupcake shop that we were, of course, obliged to go into. Moya opted for a lemon cupcake while I went for an oreo-inspired one.

-Dinner: Oh man, this was another big one. We went to a restaurant named La Cabrera. It’s well known in Buenos Aires as being one of the best steak places. We each ordered our own steak, some plain and others with chunks of blue cheese on top. Various sides came with each steak, and I’m pretty sure Brendan and Jack ate a whole cow that night. Their steaks were beyond massive. The other four got dessert but I fell asleep at the table (seriously) so I missed out.

Day 7: Buenos Aires with Jack and Moya

-Breakfast was the same as the morning before: coffee, bread, and croissants. Caitlin and Brendan had an early flight, so they went to the San Telmo market with us for an hour before they had to leave.

-Jack, Moya, and I were sad that part of our gang had left, so we decided a coffee might perk us up. I opted at this point to move from any coffee beverage with milk to plain espresso because I knew it had less calories and I was starting to feel the effects of a week of binging.

-But an hour later, we were exploring the market some more and a woman selling empanadas walked by. Yes please! I’ll take one!

-As we were walking home from the market, we came up to a French restaurant that Moya and Jack had been to. They had been talking about this restaurant since they’d arrived back in BA, so we decided to have lunch there instead of doing a big dinner that night. Lunch consisted of a shared bottle of champagne, wine, french onion soup, the best beef bourignon I’ve ever had, and molten chocolate cake. Honestly, I think it ranks in the top 3 meals I’ve ever had.

Day 8: Buenos Aires with Moya and Jack

-Breakfast again downstairs with the croissants etc.

-The three of us felt gross. Let’s go for a walk at the Ecological Park! We walked through the city to the edge of the park and decided we should grab some lunch first... we needed to make sure we’d have enough fuel! A choripan later (think massive chorizo in a roll with whatever toppings you want) we walked around the park for a couple of hours.

-After a lazy later afternoon/early evening, we decided to hit up a pizza joint that they had been to a few months earlier. They promised me it was worth it. After 1 large arugula, mozzarella, and procutto and 1 medium ricotta, mozzarella, and basil pizza, I agreed with them.

And that, my friends, pretty much ends up the massive binge that I was on. The following day, Moya and Jack left Buenos Aires and I went back to eating 2 meals a day and to not eating my weight in animal meat every day.

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As I am finally posting this for the blog now in Rio, I can also comment that I have lost a few of those pounds and have found fruit to eat for breakfast! FRUIT!

A word about food: Part I

How many of your have read Eat, Pray, Love?

I have. I was reluctant to read it after I started planning my trip because I was aware of the obvious similarities between me and the author: a woman who is not entirely happy with her life decides to up and travel for a year, hoping to satisfy herself in ways that she was unable to while at home in the States blah blah blah.

But, I read it. It was actually given to me by one of my beloved clients, Anne, who promised I would like it, so I started it the day I got to Lima and finished it a little over a week later. I won’t ruin it for those of you who haven’t read it, but basically, those three words in the title are the names of the three main sections of the book and they encapsulate the main theme of her travels in that particular area of the book.

So, far, I am sorry to admit that if I were to title my first chapter, it being about south America, its title would also have to be Eat. Or maybe Gorge. Yes, dear readers, I’ve probably gained somewhere between 5 and 10 pounds. Damn it,

In this two part blog entry that I started writing last week, we will examine food and my eating habits in particular in South America so far (I am currently on a bus from Argentina to Brazil and I’m seriously hoping my diet changes considerably in the next, oh, 5 hours. If my plan works, we may have a chapter titled Starve written later.) Part I will be about food before Argentina. Argentina... well, Argentina needs its own chapter, so that will be Part II.

Below is the entry I wrote before my waistline expanded even more in Argentina.

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I would bet you my slowly dwindling savings that if I were to call my grandmother, one of the first 3 questions out of her mouth would be, “How’s the food there?” (One of the other 2 questions would of course be if I’ve found a boyfriend yet.)

And sorry, Dad, but you are your mother’s son... You have already asked me on a few occasions about the food here in South America. (Do you remember when you last asked me that online and my response was ‘Hahaha, remember that you asked me that”? I had already written this entry and was just waiting for that to come out of your mouth again.) To be fair, I’m sure any proper Italian-American would ask too ;)

So, what’s the food like? What am I eating? Have I had ‘Bolivian Belly’ yet?

Food in most countries is still dictated by geography, farming habits, and economy. What I mean by that is that if a country like, say Peru, has a diverse climate and geography, some low elevations by the water, some really high elevations hundreds of miles from water, and dense Amazon forest and all of these areas are poor (in comparison to most other countries,) then no, you’re not going to eat steak all of the time there. If you do order steak, it’s not a fresh cut of meat from a healthy cow who has been grazing in green pastures all its life (well, neither has the cow in the U.S. who has been fed corn-feed and fattened up by drugs and and... and I’ll let my diatribe on U.S. food go for now...)

There has been one consistent meal so far in South America, from Peru to Bolivia to Chile to Argentina, and that meal is breakfast. Breakfast, or desayuno, consists of the same thing every day: coffee and bread. Sometimes the bread is just hardened slices off a baguette, sometimes it is croissants, and other times it is a round roll (like one that you’d use for a sandwich.)

With just that information, you should no longer be wondering why I’ve gained weight. Almost all current popular diets will decrease your carb content to decrease calorie consumption. My former trainer self reminds myself of this every single day as I’m eating my second croissant, but then I respond with, “Alison, you are living on $50 a day and this breakfast is free! Eat 2 more croissants and maybe you can skip lunch!”

Moving on. In Lima, Peru, I ate a lot of fish, trout in particular. I also tried ceviche, a dish made of raw fish that has been cured in acidic lime juices, because it is a regional specialty, but it didn’t suite my tastes. When I got to Cusco, I had just been dealt a mean case of altitude sickness, so I didn’t eat much at all for a few days. Then, because we were at altitude, my appetite diminished tremendously, so I would usually eat one meal a day. These meals were almost always something that I thought my body could handle, like pasta, soup, or grilled fish.

In Cusco, there were a few delicacies that I was too scared to try, one of which was Cui, or guinea pig. They’re quite popular there. We actually saw a menu that showed a photo of what looked like a mix between a fuzzy baby chick and a baby guinea pig with an arrow pointing to the next picture of a full, roasted, guinea pig. Spelling it out like that was more of a turn-off than anything else for me, so I never did try it. Another option that I did end up trying (by force) was llama. A llama steak kind of has the consistency of pork and I wasn’t a huge fan. I think I prefer llamas in those cute knitted hats that I saw them in.

Also, in all of Peru, various kind of potatoes are HUGE, so you eat them with EVERYTHING. They come in the form of french fries, sliced potatoes, and everything in between. When I was in Peru, I was already at the end of my ability to eat any more potatoes and it was only my first South American country.

In between Peru and Bolivia, when we stayed on the islands of Lake Titicaca, we ate soup and potatoes. The first time we had them, they were good. The second time they were okay. The third time, I thought that if I had the same soup and potatoes again, I’d lose it. I was told that basically those are their main staples and once a week they will go to another island or the main land to buy a piece of meal or fish.

In Boliva, the food is similar to the high-altitude Peruvian food. I was staying at a hostel that catered to western backbackers though, so the hostel menu was similar to what you’d have in the U.S. for a quick lunch: sandwiches, salads, hotdogs, grilled cheese, etc. When I ventured out of the hostel to eat, I saw a plethora of rotisserie chicken places that served the chicken with, guess what, french fries!!

In Chile, if you recall my blog entries, everything was very americanized. I, however, stayed strong and didn’t eat at an American restaurant like T.G.I.F. or McDonalds once. It did help that I was staying with a friend in a house... It was in Chile, however, that I finally picked up on the fact that South Americans put mayonnaise on EVERYTHING! When my friend Tomas and I got a sandwich at a local store in Santiago, the mayo literally poured out of my sandwich when I took a bite. Gross!

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So that just about brings us up to Argentina where the food was so incredible, it needs its own entry.

Expect some more radio silence

I'm trying to get to Rio today and my plans are pretty messed up... Combine that with the lack of good internet for the past week, a 22 hour bus ride that I'm hopefully about to get on, and you will notice no new posts. I have about 5 written, so one day in the future, you'll come to my page and see a ton of new stuff...

Until then, adios!!

Hostel Cough

I’m sure many of you who have talked to me since I left in April have noticed that I’ve been sick several times already. And not just altitude sick, which all of my blog readers know about, but proper cold and cough sick.

Why the hell is she sick all of the time? She has no job, she can sleep as long as she wants every day, what gives?

How about this: I sleep in a harbor of sick, malnourished, ill-behaving mostly 20-somethings every night. And I have, in turn, become one of those sick, malnourished (read: nourished poorly, not undernourished), ill-behaving people.

Most of us spend-thrifty backpackers spend the nights in dorms that typically house between 6 and 10 people. These dorm rooms have bunk beds with mattresses that are god knows how old and have had several things I don’t even want to think about done on them (i.e. remember when there were 2 naked people in my bed one night??) The cleanest thing in these rooms is the (hopefully) clean set of sheets that are put on top of this filthy mattress. The bathrooms and dorm floors are cleaned daily, but in my experience thus far, backpackers are filthy animals, closely resembling my former 14-year old self who threw shit everywhere, never being mindful of crumbs or really just not being mindful of anything.

So, here’s how it goes: You get into a new hostel, you find a space for your backpack, you claim that spot as your own, then you do the same with a locker for your important stuff, like your camera and laptop. You then throw something on your bed so people know it’s yours and to alert them that you have arrived in their room (this tactic can backfire on you when you have 2 naked people sleep in your bed who leave the hostel the next day thus confusing the cleaning lady who then takes your stuff and assumes it is garbage.) Later that day, when you are all in bed, sometime between nap time (4pm - 8pm) and sleep time (12am - 7am), when you’re all laying in bed, you hear him. Yes, you hear “the cougher” as I’ve named him. He is the person who will (re)infect you with “hostel cough” (another Alison original.)

What proceeds is a no-brainer. Everyone stays out beyond a time when any normal person should stay awake, we all drink booze, eat poorly or not at all, and lastly, pick up the dreaded hostel cough.

Hostel cough can then go one of two ways: you can either kick it somehow (I haven’t figured this out yet, but maybe by reinfecting someone else? Like maybe if you infect at least 5 more people, hostel cough gives you a get out of jail free card??) or you keep hostel cough for a while and often it turns into “hostel sick.”

Sadly, for me, I have been the cougher in the dorm room several times who has infected others. Let me be clear, I do not blame myself whatsoever... I instead choose to blame Hostel Cough himself who I now imagine as a nasty little green man with a snarling face, long nails, and gimpy left leg.

And now, yes, I have it yet again. Figures, I was just at another “party hostel,” treating my body to a great deal of abuse and staying with 7 other people who probably have been passing hostel cough back and forth for weeks or months. I am now on a bus, coughing my lungs out, Hostel Cough dancing around the bus, jumping all over my poor bus-mates. I'll test my theory now and see what happens if I infect the whole bus... perhaps I'll feel like a million bucks tomorrow!

Not really in the mood to blog... or photograph for that matter

I miss these guys!

I feel the need to post something so everyone knows I'm alive and well.

The fact of the matter is, I'm a little sad. Caitlin, Brendan, Moya, and Jack have all left Buenos Aires and have returned home so I am alone again. Meeting people is fun, but at times, it's annoying to do the whole "Hi my name is Alison, I am from Washington, DC and I like music..." sort of thing when you've already done it a million times.

Luckily, I have a few things keeping me from shutting myself in my room all day:

1. My childhood friend, Nicki, is meeting me in Rio in 2 weeks. She is also bringing me things from home so I don't have to buy them here! Yay!

2. One of my beloved clients has just confirmed that he will be in Lisbon when I am there. Thank God because I scheduled that stop just to see him!!

3. Jen, my best friend who has in the past been known as 'Vegas Jen' but has since moved to Austin, is going to meet me in Mexico at the end of my trip. We will be together for a week in Puerto Vallarta and then another week in Austin and this will officially be the longest time we've spent together since high school!

Now it's 7:30pm here on a Thursday night and I am going to force myself to go downstairs to the common room to socialize. I'll most likely end up blogging about some new fabulous friends I have soon, but for now, I just have to hope I meet them tonight!

The gang does Buenos Aires!

The view from our room

Thursday was a bit of a bust probably due to my hostel issues, Caitlin's cold, and the lack of sleep we had all had. The three of us managed to suck it up though and found a new hostel that was in a good area, was cheaper than most others that we'd seen, and most importantly, could accommodate all of us (and in the same room!) To celebrate, Caitlin, Brendan, and I went to an all-you-can-eat steak place for dinner and I passed out around 10pm.

The next day, Caitlin, Brendan, and I got taxis from our old hostels to the new hostel and when we arrived, Moya and Jack were already there! Happy day!! We moved into our new digs and checked out the room and the view of the world's widest avenue, Avenida 9 de Julio... Not bad!

After some showers and food, we decided to go to La Boca, one of the most poorest and unsafe areas of Buenos Aires but known for having houses and buildings painted in crazy colors and entertaining restaurants. We thought it would be a fun place to photograph, so we headed off. We got out of the cabs 15 minutes later, broke a $100 bill so we'd have some change, and went off to explore.

After about an hour, it was decided that a nice glass of wine would go well with the afternoon, so we walked down the main street filled with restaurants and let the guys out front ask us to come in, each one trying to outbid the other. A free glass of wine at this one? Oh, well that one will give us two! AND they have a free tango show!

Ta da!

We sat down at a table in the front and enjoyed a showing of gaucho and tango. At one point, the tango dancers brought audience members up on stage to dance, so Brendan, Caitlin, and Jack all got up and showed off their fancy footwork as Moya and I pretended to be engrossed in my camera so the dancers wouldn't pull us up on stage too.

After our wine, we thought it would be fun to go to another area of Buenos Aires and do some window shopping, so off to San Telmo we went. In the main square where artists set up shop (or in this case, set up blanket), Caitlin got the fork bracelet she had been lusting after since she had seen one in Bolivia before we all stopped at a bar to grab a coffee.

When we got our bill, we all tossed in our money and handed it to the waiter. A minute later, he returned and said, "Este dinero es falso." Translated for you all, that means "This money is fake."

Huh? Fake money? What was this guy talking about?

He proceeded to show us the differences between a real and a fake bill... the watermarks weren't the same, the feel of the paper was different, and various small things were missing from the fake bills. He then told us that these bills get distributed most commonly in taxis... Ah, the cabbie who brought us to La Boca was the culprit!

We paid our bill with real money and went off, bitching about the fake money and wondering how we would get rid of it. Try to pay someone with it? Throw it away? Find the taxi driver who gave it to us and beat the crap out of him?

Ice cream!

We walked home and decided on the way that ice cream would make us feel better. When doesn't ice cream make you feel better (other than when you're lactose intolerant)? Or maybe what made us all feel better was the fact that we were all together and didn't have to deal with this on our own...

Reunited and it feels so good!

Thursday morning, I arrived in Buenos Aires after a 11 hour bus ride that had wifi. Sure, this bus was probably the most comfortable I'd been in yet, but who can sleep when you have wifi and you haven't blogged in days?

So at 5:30am, our bus pulled into the station 30 minutes earlier than anticipated and I was exhausted. I had no hostel reservations made and knew that I might have some issues getting into a good place because the night before, I had seen online that several were booked up.

Being too tired to overthink things, I got in a taxi and asked to go to one of the most well-known party hostels in Buenos Aires. First thing I noticed about BA: it's huge. Second thing: it's going to be super expensive... My taxi ride was about 4x the amount that most other taxis had cost so far while I was in South America...

I got to the hostel and when I was let in, I asked the night manager if there were any rooms available that I could go to. He cocked his head to the side and said, "Well, you have a reservation, right?"

Wrong.

He told me that the entire hostel was booked up for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, but maybe the hotel next door would have something. I went there and the front desk guy told me in Spanish that it was too early to make a reservation.

Okaaaaay, now what? I got online and looked up other options and of course, because BA is so big, there were about 400 to choose from. As we all now know though, picking the right hostel is of the upmost importance and I am anal, so this became an hour + long task.

An hour and a half later, armed with info from the internet about a particular hostel's

whereabouts and atmosphere, I got into a taxi and hoped that this place had the availability that the website promised.

When I arrived, I was told that they did indeed have a room for now, this morning, and also for tonight. They, however, did not have room

for Friday. I was a little concerned, because I knew I would be meeting back up with Moya, Jack, Caitlin, and Brendan again and that we'd all want to stay in the same place, but really I just needed a place to crash and take a shower now and I'd deal with the other nights later.

I got up to the checkup desk and the man there started punching stuff into the computer and making faces that concerned me. After a minute or so, he told me what was going on:

"Well, we do have a room for now. And we also have one for tonight. But it's not the same room... You're going to have to switch this afternoon."

"Check-out is at 11am right? It's 7:15am now. Does that mean I'll have to take a shower, sleep for 2 hours, pay for today as if it were a full night, and then get up and move to a new room?"

"Yes, I'm sorry..."

That's stupid. I could not justify spending a while night's housing allowance on a 2 hour nap. The desk guy said that an option could be to just crash on the couch for a few hours and then to move into the new room this afternoon. Me? Sleep on a couch in the middle of a busy, 200 person hostel?

I woke up on the couch an hour later, clutching my day pack like it was a floatation device saving me from drowning and people were walking all around me. I was embarrassed that people probably thought I was a drunk asshole who hadn't made it to my room the night before and I was in desperate need of a shower.

I was pretty miserable so I did what any normal person would do -- I got back online and started frantically researching for a place that all 5 of us could stay that wouldn't require all of this room-switching bullshit or couch sleeping. I knew Brendan and Caitlin had arrived in BA the day before, so I emailed then and told them what was up. A couple hours later, Brendan emailed that he and Caitlin were in another area of the city but would come to rescue me ASAP.

And then, suddenly, they were there! Seeing them was like seeing... I don't know, it was just awesome! I showed them the hand-written spread sheet I had made of our hostel options, including price, location, Lonely Planet opinion, HostelWorld approval %, and phone number. After some frustrating phone calls and emails to hostels, we decided to screw it all and go to lunch.

God, I had missed them! Now, we just had to wait for Moya and Jack...

Ah, Verena, Sweet Verena

I just spent less than 48 hours in Argentina’s second biggest city, Cordoba, but I could not feel more refreshed and happy. This is all due to my new and now very good friend, Verena.

I’ve mentioned Verena in a past post of mine, 2 Israelis, 1 Argentinean, 1 American, and 1 “Jungle Boy” Walk into a Bar. She’s the Argentinean. I met Verena that one night in Cusco, and again the next afternoon before she was heading back home after her 3 weeks of travel. She had mentioned at the bar, probably after we had known each other for less than 2 hours, that if I were to come to Cordoba, I would have to stay with her.

I’ve met enough people who offer false promises that I didn’t really take her too seriously that night. But the next day as she said her tearful goodbyes to everyone, I told her I would do my best to make a stop in her home town.

Within a day, we were Facebook friends. A few days later, I posted some photos from my time in Cusco and she commented on them. We wrote back and forth a little bit and I mentioned that I was still hoping to come and she exclaimed that she would love to have me.

***** BREAKING NEWS!!!************

I am interrupting myself to let you all know that THERE IS WIFI ON MY BUS FROM CORDOBA TO BUENOS AIRES!!! WHAT???!?!?!?! REALLY?!?!?! I’M TOTALLY FREAKING OUT WITH EXCITEMENT!

Whew. Sorry. I am a crazy person over the wifi. To think that I can post stuff WHILE I’M ON A BUS but can’t when I’m in a hostel?? HUH?!?!

Okay, I’m done now, back to my touching story about my new friend, Verena.

I’M SORRY! I CAN’T STOP! I’M STILL SO AMAZED! THE WIFI IN DC IS SHIT COMPARED TO THIS! I’M MOVING TO ARGENTINA! I CAN FLUSH TOILET PAPER DOWN A TOILET HERE AND CAN GET WIFI ON A BUS? DONE!!

___________

Once i knew I was going to go back up to Bolivia and I changed the route of my trip, I knew Cordoba would fit in nicely. I would have to go from Salta to Buenos Aires, so why not make a pit stop to see a new friend?

Throughout all of the IMing and emailing, Verena never once seemed to get frustrated with me. My plans changed daily. I couldn’t nail down a specific day that I would be there. Always though, she told me how excited she was and that she would pick me up from the bus station etc etc.

The day before I arrived, I emailed her to confirm that it would be okay if I visited. Why did I even ask? Of course it was okay. She picked me up, as promised, at 8am when my bus arrived and welcomed me with open arms as if I was a long lost friend or a family member that she hadn’t seen in years. She had taken off the day from work so that we could do whatever my little heart desired.

When we got to her house, she made me breakfast and we sat down to eat together. 3 hours later, we were still laughing and talking about my travels, her travels, and life in general. I felt like I could sit there all day... Sometimes it’s so nice to have a relaxing, comfortable day in with a friend.

After taking a long shower, putting some laundry in the wash, and drinking more mate, we ultimately decided to go out so I could see Cordoba. We walked through Nueva Cordoba and downtown, saw the Jesuit Block which consists of a group of buildings dating from the 17th century , and finally stopped at a fresh seafood market where we had lunch and (surprise!) sat for a few more hours and talked. When we finally left, we had to stop by her work place where she surprised me with a massage (Verena and her mother own what in English would basically translate to a spa.) :)

That night, we went to an amazing restaurant where a new friend of Verena's/the owner treated us to wine, dessert, champagne, and appetizers... All we had to pay for was our entrees!! The owner and his friend didn't speak English, and my Spanish isn't too fantastic, but somehow we all managed to communicate and it ended up being one of the most enjoyable dinners I've had since leaving the States.

The next day, after a night where I had MY OWN ROOM with a bed bigger than a single that had sheets that I wasn't afraid to sleep in, Verena went to work for the afternoon while I spent the day lounging, doing my hair, and trying to make myself feel like I wasn't a backpacker. I went out to buy my bus ticket to Buenos Aires and also to buy groceries at the store so I could make Verena dinner.

The thought of cooking was making me antsy... I was so psyched to use a kitchen again. I know that may sound bizarre to some of you, and frankly it did to Verena too because she hasn't once used her oven apparently, but when you're eating out every single meal, you start itching to cook your own meals again. I decided on chicken marsala, because as it turned out, Verena's oven didn't work so I had to make something entirely on the burners.

Four hours later, Verena and I were eating what I think was the most delicious chicken marsala I've ever made. She marveled how good my meal was and I was so happy that I gave her something that she enjoyed so much!

I packed my things up and we both got in a cab to the bus station. Once we reached my bus, Verena and I had one of those long, lingering hugs that only real friends and family members have, and I got into my seat. Verena waited outside my bus the whole time until it took off, waving steadily as the bus pulled away, kind of the same way my parents wave to me after I've walked through the check-in area at the airport. I smiled. How awesome that after meeting someone for a few hours in Peru, she is now my good friend.

Within seconds of leaving, the bus conductor told me that there was wifi available and the above spazzout happened. Of course, I immediately emailed Verena to tell her the news. Her reaction within minutes was "Are you serious??? It's so funny that I didn't know! Enjoy wifi my friend, I already miss you!!!"

Salt Flats Tour: Day 3 or Get me the hell out of here!

My sarcasm is increasing as I write these 3 blog posts, as I’m sure it was while I was actually on the tour.

On Day 3, I was reaching my limit of no showers, of not feeling my toes, and of being cramped in the back of a car. To make matters more intense, we had to get up at 5am that morning. We could hear the insane winds as we got ready (as mentioned above, I didn’t ever take off my clothes the night before so in the morning, I just had to brush my teeth) and wondered how cold it was outside.

At 5:30am, the boys helped Jimmy load our bags back onto the car and I wish my camera had been able to focus on the scene, because it was crazy -- the wind must have been blowing at least 30mph and when the guys came back in, it looked like they’d been punched in the face a few times.

Finally, we all jumped in the car and off we went into the dark. The sun hadn’t started to rise and the full moon was following up as we crawled through the dusty "road." As the sun started to show behind the mountains, we neared some geisers. Jimmy told us that we could get out if we wanted to take some photos, and I decided I was happy to see them from inside the car. When Jack opened the door to get out, the door flew open due to the wind, and it bent the door frame.

Poor Jack... After first waiting outside in the cold while Jimmy tried to fix the door, he had to hold the door shut while we drove to the next spot... Not easy when 1. You’re exhausted, 2. You can’t feel your hands and 3. Everyone else in the car is asleep. But, he did it, and we arrived at our next place about 45 minutes later. Time for breakfast! Pancakes!

After we had finished eating and some of us had thawed out, Jimmy asked if any of us were going to get into the the thermal baths that were outside. We laughed at the thought but went down to check it out anyway and when we reached down to touch the water, it actually felt amazing. Also, none of us had showered in days. The thought crossed all of our minds until we looked back at the car and saw Jimmy was ready to leave.

A bit later, we stopped by our last park site: Laguna Verde, a lake whose green color comes from the sediments within (mainly copper, I think.) I was still freezing and just generally over the tour, so I let Jack take some photos for me (so photo credit goes to him on this one.)

And that was it! Jimmy drove us to the border patrol area (see photo...) where we had to get on a bus into Chile, gave us our bags from off the top of the car, and said a quick goodbye. I think he was as over the trip as I was. He tore out of there like a bat out of hell, spewing dust everywhere and... just kidding, he drove away slowly. It would have been a better story if he had torn out of there with his middle finger in the air though, right?

An hour later, Brendan, Caitlin, Moya, Jack, and I were entering Chile and were drooling about 2 things: a shower and a real meal, both of which we had within a couple of hours, luckily.