Final Breakdown on Argentina:

Country of Origin: Chile
Total time in country: 21 days
Music: Tango dancing is the nation dance of pride. This sultry dance has been made illegal in 8 states for being "excessively sexy".
People: 40% of the Argentinian population is three (or fewer) generations removed from their immigrant Italian ancestors. Hmmm what happen three generations ago in Italy that would make them all want to leave Europe...
Transport: Supposedly the airline company that we flew was on strike. They should teach the airline companies in the states how to improve their service by striking.
Landscape: Patagonia might be one of the loveliest places I've ever been, and I will always be looking for jobs now in Mendoza, I could live there.
Food: Dave so eloquently put it that he fell in love will all the grill masters at restaurants where we ate. The Italians don't mess around when it comes to their food and wine. In my opinion Argentinian wine underrated, Chilean wine overrated.
Safety: I don't recommend sitting in the Boca stadium in white and red, but other then that it felt as safe as any European city.
Gas prices: 3.14 Argentine Pesos/Liter (3.98 USD per gallon)
Surprised by: How un-Latin American the place seems. It is the South American anchor point to Europe. You can also tell by the strong (but likable) ego of the Argentinians that they are a little miffed they have to share the continent with the rest of Latin America.
Final word: If I had my way this would probably be the first South American country I return to. I could live in Mendoza, I still have to get to the lake district in the northern part of Patagonia, and I'm not sure I would ever get tired of watching the tango dancing in Buenos Aires.
Next stop: Brazil

Bad Haircuts in Buenos Aires

Instead of taking two days in a bus to get down to Patagonia we saddled up an airplane and flew both directions. We flew from Buenos Aires down to area which means that upon our return we were actually visiting BA for the second time. The first time wan not much. We had opted to stay in Mendoza for an extra day and just catch the overnight bus to get to the airport in time for our flight. One the way in we had some unexpected bus trouble and found ourselves sweating, not knowing if we were going to make said flight. Finally on the edge of town while the bus was broken down for nth time (where n = more fingers than I have) Dave and I decided to just pony up and take a taxi. At this point in the day it is probably 2:00 and and the flight is at 3:30. We motor through town in the cab, pull the "I'm a lost gringo" trick and walked to the front of the line in the airport. No one even seemed to notice. By 2:15 we were checked in and realize we had not eaten all day and were famished.

I had noticed a stand outside with a grill. We headed back outside the airport to fill our striking stomachs. Unbeknownst to us at the time we accidentally stumbled upon the choripan which wins the best street food of south america award. For three Argentinian Pesos (about a dollar) one can get an excellent sausage (chorizo) packed inside a freshly baked roll (pan), and if you mash chorizo y pan into one word you come up with the above stated choripan. Part of the reason why these stands win this award is because they have more condiments (some of them made fresh daily) then they have items on the menu.

Dave and I shove two into our mouths each, and as we are contemplating a third we look over to see the cook talking with a pretty lady who has a camera man in tow. I turn around just in time to see him point at us and say, "you can interview the gringos too if you want, they speak Spanish well enough." Unable to resist, she came over and started to chat us up. Eventually she wandered into asking for an interview, I looked at Dave and myself and saw nothing but scrubby backpacker who hadn't changed clothes in over 24 hrs, showered recently, and had greasy sausage face as well. Unfortunately while I had thought about saying no, Dave had immediately exclaimed "anything for you pretty lady," with his big cartoon like googly eyes. Somehow I got roped into standing by Dave's side. Before allowing Dave to do the interview i asked what the interview was going to be about. She promised just a couple of easy questions about where we are from and Buenos Aires. My spid-e-senses were going crazy, but I had no real ammo to say no.

The interview went something like this...
What are your names?
Dave and Lane

What are you doing here in Buenos Aires?
Traveling, we are on our way down to Rio Gallegos by plane

How did you like Buenos Aires?
We actually have only been here for about an hour, we will spend more time here on the way back

Aren't you concerned about sicknesses and eating at a dirty sausage stand like this one on the streets?
...

As Dave, startled by the sudden change in question, started to say something about how we had been through all of South America and that this place was probably 100X better than anything in Bolivia, blah blah blah the camera moved in for the portrait on just him. The questions continued and Dave just kept talking. As I slowly stepped away all I could see was in the close-up shot on Dave, all one would see is his unkept self as stated above, and his shirt that had Promotor de Saluda emblazoned across the front and a Peace Corps logo.

In the Peace Corps we are told to avoid the media, but we were out now. Why not do the interview? I knew that she could cut the film to make us look like idiots, and thus the Peace Corps as well. I, like Tom Sawyer after stealing a hunk of bacon, thought that the gods of doing the wrong thing were going to rain hell-fire down upon us, but as I opened my eyes to see the interviewer walking off and Dave saying, we gotta go, and not but blue sky all around, I wiped my brow having escaped fate again and walked off. Dave later admitted to me that he had no idea what he was saying during the interview, he was just trying to speak Spanish as well as he could and make sure that the answer given matched the question asked. Maybe it was a good thing that we didn't see the end result of the interview.

Once we got back from Patagonia we were ready to get down in BA. We had heard so much good stuff about BA, and she did not disappoint. We got a local recommendation for some tango lessons in the basement of a near-by community center. It was mostly locals, and a great experience. The tango is amazing to watch, it is the vertical representation of the horizontal mambo. Dave and I looked at each other and both decided to practice a little, but we really just wanted to watch.

The next day we went down to the El Caminito which is in Boca the blue-collar part of town. This colorful alley has tourist trap written all over it with tango dancers in the street, over priced restaurants, art galleries, and gift shops everywhere. It was quaint, but over the top, the stadium of the Boca Juniors (The South American soccer version of the Yankees) which seats over 100K people was far more interesting for Dave and I. On the way back to our hostel we stopped at the Casa Rosada, the Argentine 'White House' to be able to say we went to the house where Madonna played that famous lady in that movie we never saw. what was that movie called?

To kill an afternoon Dave and I went and got haircuts. I was nervous because Argentina apeared to be the mullet capital of the world. Everyone had one and the style was to see who could make their hair look more greasy and redneck than the rest. Haircuts were mandatory because we would each have an interview on the way home, and we did not want that awkward "I just had a haircut yesterday" look. We made the executive decision to do it in BA because we could speak Spanish and explain what we wanted, who knew what would happen in Brazil where we might not be able to communicate with the hair cutter. Dave went first and came out fine, but when I came out next, Dave stifled his laughter and said, "looks great, no mullet." It wasn't until we met up with Jon a week later at Carnival when he asked "do you know you have a mullet thing going on in the back?"

Dane showed up soon there after. He was headed down to Patagonia to instruct a NOLS course on long distance hiking in Patagonia, but had some time to kill in BA and we just happened to be there at the same time. We strolled around town and went to see Romeo and Juliet styled cemetery. It was full of all the famous families from Argentina that I didn't know, but the Catholic style housing for the dead was quite impressive.

The next morning we clambered onto a train and went down to Mar de Plata. Spent the day on a beach where we had to walk for a quarter mile just to find enough space for three dudes to lay down in the sand. It was PACKED. Why here you ask? Because the beach was secondary for everyone. We were all there to see a football game. It had been a sin to have skipped so many games in the other countries, but we were making up for it here. The three of us were going to see a boca/river game. This is a crosstown rivalry AND a social class rivalry AND the two most well know teams in the country. Imagine Yankees / Red Socks on HGH. People have been killed, and as we got off the train, the riot police made their presence know right away in their full riot gear and dogs. It got better by the minute. We scalped some tickets infront of the summer league stadium, downed a couple of choripans and went into the game. Chaos ensued. Boca won, our prize for standing with the winning team was we were locked us into the stadium for almost an entire hour after the game. Measures that the local authorities had taken to prevent mixing of the fan bases. We walked back to the bus station (over 3 miles), and only had to duck a couple of stones thrown. We survived the game, but I was more worried about what was to come. Dave and I had four days to get to Carnival, and 3 days on buses if everything went well. We didn't have much time to dilly-dally. We parted ways with Dane and started the first night of three on a bus north to the glory of Carnival.

Falling Off the Bottom of the World, Patagonia

We have officially reached the furthest away from home that either of us has experienced. This is the end of the Americas to the south and it could not be more drastic in it's appearance. The most interesting part of the whole Patagonia experience is the drastic changes in scenery. As is the case with this blog 99.9% of the pictures of Patagonia are of the electric blue glaciers, the huge slabs of granite, evergreen filled valleys, and crystal clear lakes. This area is amazing and during the comfortable (but still cold) it rivals anything I have seen. The irony is that 99% of the land mass in Patagonia is more associated with the picture immediately to the right. That's right, Patagonia is mostly barren, flat, and sparsely populated with sheep. The wind that rips through here in the winter time is fierce, and even now in the summer time it can get bluster through with enough power to let you know it is still around.

Dave and I flew down on tickets that we had purchased a month earlier from Bolivia. This was key strategizing by us as the number of butterflies that flew out of our wallets increased and the number of dollars was drastically diminishing. It is a good thing that we are headed home, our mothers will be much more willing to help us if we have made a solid effort to at least START to come home.

After we made the bus trip to the local tourist town we began the harder than expected search for a place to lay our heads. We ended up in this nice little spot that was full of Israelis. Dave and I looked at each other and knew we were in the right spot, because there would be no cheaper place in town. Now before you get all offended by my thinly veiled jab at the chosen people, it seemed to me that this stigma is worn like a badge of honor to them. On one occasion we were having dinner with a lovely pair if Israelis and on of them launched into a monologue about how he was so proud that he never paid full price for anything. Dave and I played dumb, trying to keep a straight face, while we jabbed each other in the ribs with our elbows as the guy explained to us that it is a characteristic (and a stereotype) that all Israelis are cheap. He even went as far to say as he enjoyed going to open air markets, "to watch the Jews try to 'out Jew' each other." (his words not mine) I feel as though I have dug myself into a hole of digression so deep that I may not be able to write my way back out, so let us get back to not so culturally offensive bits.

We spent an entire day sitting at the Perito Moreno glacier. It is one of the few glaciers in the world that is not in retreat. It is presently holding its size and for every chunk that falls of in a given year it is build back up on the mountain behind it. We spent the day lazing in the sun watching and listening to the huge 60 ft slabs fall off into the water as we drank more wine and ate cheese, and pretending that we were more cultured than we are.

Our next stop on the Patagonia Express was back in Chile. The Torres De Paine has an amazing route that is called the "W" for obvious reasons, and one must take 'Bus #11' (walking). It was a moderate 4-5 day route that we took six days to do, because it was cheaper, prettier, and did I mention cheaper to rent the camping gear and stay in the park. It was nothing but view after view after view.

The last morning before we were to hike out was the finale to the hike, if one is lucky to have a clear morning at sunrise a blur of purple, pink, and orange paint the walls of the granite towers of the actual Torres de Paine, which stretch out like the fingers of God" as it was described by the Rocky Horror Picture Show butler of a receptionist at our hostel back in town. I was sprawled out on a rock looking up at the stars realizing I was laying on "the bottom of the world" and that only a little natural phenomena called gravity was keeping me from floating off into oblivion. I then made me realize that as a sphere every spot on this little dot of a planet is simultaneously the "top" and the "bottom" of the world and it only depends on your ego to create the perspective that each person wants to see.

Unfortunately one obscure cloud blocked the direct sun light, so we did not see the colors in the morning, but the sight was impressive none the less. We hike out in relative silence as I was quite sentimental of the fact that I was now technically on my way home. It was very strong nostalgic feeling of happy to be on my way home, but having also enjoyed the trip immensely thus far. It was rather metaphorical that the sun had not come up in the ideal conditions. It represented the realness of the trip that even though everything had not gone ideally, it was still amazing and worth it. Even though mayhem of Carnival in Brazil lay ahead, I couldn't help but feel that this was the spike of the climax in the trip, and the rest is just the resolution with carnival as the last chaotic scene before the closing credits. I then asked Dave to punch me in the face, which he was more than happy to oblige without even asking why. What is a good guy friend good for if not to help you realize that enough physical pain will suppress the males Achilles's Heel: emotions.