How to Survive Argentina & Peru

(A Gringa's Perspective)

Based on the 6 weeks I spent traversing Argentina and Peru last year, I thought I'd share a few bits of advice that I wished I had known prior to embarking. Sometimes it's fun to learn by experience, other times it's expensive and stressful and you just wish someone would have told you. Hopefully this list will find its way to curious Googlers trying to prepare for their trip to South America. By no means do I claim to be an expert on these matters, this is just a bit of wisdom drawn from my experiences traveling from Buenos Aires to El Bolsón, through Bolivia, to Cusco and the Sacred Valley, and finally to Lima and home. 

1. If traveling by bus or coach between cities, across the country, etc., do not ever expect your bus to arrive on time. If it's an hour late, it's early. It's important to keep this in mind when booking connecting bus rides, or when your "arrival time" is 5pm and you're planning to catch the last city bus that leaves at 6pm. Do not make the mistake of thinking you will arrive on time. It won't happen. You will probably miss the last city bus, or, if you're lucky, you will arrive just in time to run (you and your 40 lb. backpack) to the bus stop, realize you're at the wrong bus stop, see the correct bus in the far distance just pulling away, run some more, and wave down the bus from the sidewalk. This will anger the passive-aggressive bus driver, and he will later drive past your stop on purpose and drop you off in the middle of nowhere on an abandoned dirt road, 2km past where you need to be. Did that sound bitter? I don't mean to sound bitter. My point is, allow a good 3-4 hours for a bus layover when making your arrangements. You won't regret it.

2. If you're the kind of person who enjoys using toilet paper when relieving yourself, always carry some with you when you're out and about. You cannot expect the public bathrooms to have any. I cannot stress this enough. It is possible there will be a woman standing outside the bathroom, selling toilet paper, but she will have already divided it up into amounts she deems sufficient, and it will never be enough. Not ever. So for God's sake, bring your own.

3. When in Argentina, if someone offers you a maté, you take it. Don't worry about the fact that you'll be drinking from the same mug and the same straw as everyone else in the general vicinity. You'll be fine. Drink until the mug is empty (regardless of how unbearably strong it tastes), and pass it back to the person with the thermos. You must drink two separate mug-fulls before you can decline another mug. Do not say "gracias," unless you have already had these two mug-fulls. Saying "gracias" indicates you don't want more. If you haven't yet had your second mug, and you're returning an empty mug, say something to the effect of, "Qué rico", "Me gusta", or just don't say anything at all.  Also, if you're at someone's house and they ask you how you take your maté, it doesn't actually matter what you want; tell them you'll take it however they're having it. This is serious stuff, y'all. Don't mess this one up.

4. Before you arrive at any airport or major bus station, do some research to find out what an appropriate price is for a taxi from the airport to wherever you're going. Almost without fail, if you don't know what the going rate is, you will pay twice the amount you should. Act confident (even if you're not), and refuse to pay a rate more than what you know to be fair. If you don't know very much Spanish, at least learn how to have this conversation with a potential driver. Unless of course you enjoy being swindled. (I'm speaking from experience as a person who was swindled out of $80 USD from a taxi driver in Buenos Aires. Live and learn).

5. Unless you're in a major city, don't expect the pharmacy to have anything you need. You think tampons are a basic item? Think again. Out of contact solution? Hope you brought glasses. Have an actual health problem that requires medication? Cross your fingers it's not life-threatening. Fortunately there is often more than one pharmacy in a town, so you may get lucky. Just be prepared to go without.

6. When dining out, there are a few things you need to know. Firstly, many places do not take cards. If you aren't carrying cash, make sure to ask about this before you order (and read #7). Secondly, sometimes the napkins are more like pieces of wax paper. Be prepared for this. Finally, much unlike the standard procedure in America, the servers are not trying to hurry you out the door (which can be nice), but if you are actually in a hurry, you need to know that you will not receive your bill unless you ask for it. Not once did I get an unsolicited bill from my server. Also, along these same lines, don't expect a speedy delivery of your food, and by no means expect for all of the table's meals to come out at the same time. At one restaurant in Peru, my brother had completely finished his meal as the waitress was lighting the brick oven in which my pizza would eventually be cooked. That's real life.

7. Always carry a decent amount of cash (both US dollars and local currency). This is especially helpful for airport travel, as there will usually be a unexpected baggage fee, exit tax, entry tax, toilet paper fee, fee for speaking broken Spanish, etc. And it will all be cash only. Also, you may have to purchase an unexpected visa for a layover in Bolivia, and they'll only accept US dollars. You don't want to find yourself at the customs counter in Bolivia, without a visa or cash, crying and pleading in broken Spanish to the security guards to let you go to the ATM. Please, learn from my mistakes. Also, be aware of exchange rates, otherwise you might make careless ATM withdrawals and later have a heart attack when you check the status of your bank account.

8. If you're in Peru, I'm assuming you'll be visiting Machu Picchu (as you should). It's best to arrive early in the morning, when the crowds will be more at the Six Flag level and not yet to the Disney World level. When I say early, I mean you'll be waking up at 3:30am (unless you're staying in Aguas Calientes, the town of Machu Picchu. If you're staying in Cusco, it will take you about 4 hours to get there, via taxi, train, and bus). Make sure you bring plenty of water, hearty snacks, and a rain jacket. They sell water and food there, but it's extremely overpriced. Like, the same you would pay for food and water in the States. Outrageous, I say. Also, if you want to climb Huayna Picchu (the steep mountain featured in all the pictures of Machu Picchu), just know you have to make a reservation in advance.

9. If you'll be touring the Sacred Valley in Peru, I highly recommend the town of Pisaq. Go on a Sunday, as there's a huge market with fresh produce, handicrafts, etc. There are ruins up in the hills overlooking the town, and they're definitely worth it to see. You can hike up, but we took a taxi. It was a reasonable price, and the driver will take you up to the ruins and make plans to meet you 2 hours later at the end of the trail. Really convenient. I enjoyed the ruins of Pisaq almost as much as I did Machu Picchu, and what was great was the lack of tourists. It was almost empty! Gorgeous views of the Sacred Valley, great scenic hiking, and lots of various sites to see, including an Inkan cemetery.

10. In the town of Ollantaytambo, there is a restaurant called Hearts Café (Café Corazones), and I highly recommend it. Besides the fact that 100% of its proceeds go to an NGO that teaches life skills to Andean children, the food is out of this world delicious. Lots of vegetarian options, natural food, international cuisines, and it seems almost everything is homemade. The bun for my veggie burger was definitely freshly made, and there were pieces of real tomato in my ketchup. They also serve High Tea, complete with tea, scones, clotted cream, and jam. A real treat to find in a small village in Peru.. 

11. You'll probably catch on to this one pretty quickly, but when meeting people (friends, host families, etc.), expect to hug and exchange cheek kisses. It's rude if you don't. Even if you're from America and hugging a stranger is a lot to ask, get over it, and kiss the person in front of you. Even if you're a dude, and he's a dude. It's standard procedure and will continue to be every time you see or depart from this person henceforth.

12. If you're staying in Cusco and planning on taking day trips to outlying towns in the Sacred Valley, do not even worry about finding transportation. It's the easiest thing on earth. Let's say you're trying to get to Pisaq. Find out from your hostel or hotel staff where the appropriate combi leaves from, go to this general vicinity, and then stand there for a second looking confused. Almost without fail, a man will yell out to you, "Pisaq?!" and then you nod, and he will lead you to a large, white van. Don't be alarmed; this is a combi. Find your seat. (Mom, I never did this. But if I did....well, nevermind.) Later in the day, when you're in Pisaq and trying to get back to Cusco, it will be even easier. You don't even really have to go to one particular area. Just look vaguely like you might be a tourist, and someone will find you and offer you a ride to Cusco. Buses, combis, taxis -- your options are pretty much endless. Just remember to always agree on the price before agreeing on the ride.

So there you have it. Hopefully this list has been helpful or at least a bit insightful for anyone planning on taking a trip to either of these countries. If you're on the fence about whether or not to go, please go. You will not regret it. Sure there are dishonest taxi drivers, inaccurate bus schedules, and poorly stocked pharmacies. But the incredible experiences you will have will completely trump all the insignificant unpleasant ones. Go, stay as long as you can, and see as much as you can. If your trip is anything like mine, it will always be one of your favorite memories.

On money being the root of all evil

         "Have you ever asked what is the root of money? Money is a tool of exchange, which can't exist unless there are goods produced and men able to produce them. Money is the material shape of the principle that men who wish to deal with one another must deal by trade and give value for value. Money is not the tool of the moochers, who claim your product by tears, or of the looters, who take it from you by force. Money is made possible only by the men who produce. Is this what you consider evil?
        ...Or did you say it's the love of money that's the root of all evil? To love a thing is to know and love its nature. To love money is to know and love the fact that money is the creation of the best power within you, and your passkey to trade your effort for the effort of the best among men...The lovers of money are willing to work for it. They know they are able to deserve it."

-Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand

I decided to change the title of my blog. I felt my previous title was no longer in full alignment with my personal worldview. My new title is an excerpt from from Ayn Rand's Anthem, and it does a nice job of succinctly expressing my philosophy of life. And just so I don't have a post only dedicated to the obvious fact that the title of my blog is now different, I will also post a little diddy I wrote sometime in 2010 and never got around to sharing with anyone. My apologies for the elaborate vocabulary; I was deep in the midst of studying GRE vocab words when I wrote this.


           To discover your passion, should be the greatest and most sought-after endeavor of each individual’s life. It is a shame and perhaps a disgrace that our society is structured in such a way as to disallow all but the most fervent individuals from truly pursuing whatever it is that makes their heart beat faster, wilder. Many are hindered by questions of financial obligations or lack of finances altogether. Others are discouraged by the pragmatism that pervades the mindset of the Western world and deceives us into thinking we cannot or should not dream wildly and passionately about the opportunities and adventures that could, and do, patiently await us. Instead, we subject ourselves to years of tortuous learning, which is valuable to most—but not all—if not for the sake of knowing how to push yourself to your limits and expand your mind to its greatest extents. For many, academia is a way to whet the appetite for all there is to learn and experience in the world. For many others, it is an obligation that can actually serve to suppress or supersede true dreams and passions.

          After all the rigors of a pedantic lifestyle, should we not take time to discover what makes us burn? To explore and seek out the one part of our soul that may have lain dormant our whole lives, waiting for a chance to reveal itself at the most opportune time, to tell us this is our purpose here on this earth, this is why you were born into this hell of a world, full of pain and disappointment, injustice and heartache; amongst all of this debris, there is hope, and it lies within. It is the warm burst of zeal, the inner motor that propels us forward when everything and everyone else screams “Stop! You can’t do this!” It is the unique passion of each individual that makes our lives worthwhile and effects change on the world in which we all must live. Life is not easy, nor is it always or even often enjoyable, but to seek out, discover, and act upon your true passion is an obligation we all must have, not only for ourselves, but for everyone else, whose lives are most enhanced when their friends, family members, neighbors, and fellow human beings are living to their fullest potential, creating and inspiring change, paying it forward, and encouraging others to unveil the fiery ball of ardor that lies dormant within every one of us. 

El Año Nuevo

Since I wrote an end-of-the-year post last year, I figured I should do the same at the end of this year, if only to report back on whether or not I succeeded in fulfilling my goals I laid out for 2011. And I am happy to report that, for the most part, I did! As a refresher, here is my list of goals for the previous year:

• Run my second annual Peachtree Road Race (thus running the farthest distance since July 4, 2010)
• Related: attempt "barefoot running"
• Begin working on my MPH degree to advance my aspirations of epidemiology
• Meet and seduce a man who looks just like this guy, or maybe this one
• Take at least one vacation
• Join a CSA

I ran the Peachtree Road Race, and got a better time than the previous year. I bought a pair of Vibram Five Fingers and tried out "barefoot running" for a little while (only to decide it's not for me.) I got accepted into my #1 grad school for an MPH degree, and plan to start this coming August (I'm counting that as a success, even though the wording of my goal was a little off). I joined a CSA, I took at least three vacations, and while I didn't seduce Jude Law or Marcus Mumford, that's not to say 2011 was devoid of romance altogether ;)

I also had made a more qualitative goal for the previous year that I didn't state on my blog because it sounds kind of silly, but I had resolved that the most appropriate adjective for 2011 was going to be "fun". And I am happy to report that I succeeded in making that happen (with the help of my amazing friends, both old and new). I hope to carry over this same adjective to 2012 (and the rest of my life for that matter).

And so approaches 2012. I have a vague, blurry idea of what this coming year will look like, but not enough to set such an achievable list of goals as last year. One thing I know for sure is that I hope to be nearly fluent in Spanish by the end of this next year. I'm about half way there, and I don't really know how it will happen besides forcing my Latino friends to speak to me in Spanish, but I'm going to get there. Te prometo.

And so tonight, we celebrate endings, beginnings, friendships, and the glory that is champagne. For 2012, I wish you success in all you do, and, as the Irish say:

To a firm hand for a flighty beast 
an old dog for the long road 
a kettle of fish for Friday 
and a welcome for the New Year!

Life in Patagonia

The Setting :

El Bolson is a small hippie town, surrounded on all sides by the gorgeous, snow-capped Andes Mountains. The weather is almost always sunny, except for the occasional volcanic ash that looks similar to hazy clouds. The temperatures hover around 70 degrees during the day, and somewhere in the 50s at night. There’s often a cool breeze blowing. It hardly ever rains, yet somehow all the grass is green, and the trees are blooming. Idyllic.

To give you an idea of the ambience of the town, its economy is primarily supported by the artisan market (la feria) which is held every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday in the main plaza. La feria offers a delightful array of knitted wool hats, handcrafted jewelry, artisan beer, and more hand-carved wooden gnomes than you would ever expect to see in a lifetime. While la feria seems like a happy hippie fest full of love and peace, there is also a darker side that most passersby would never suspect. La feria was described to me by a local as similar to the mafia, with a few enigmatic “jefes” at the top. If you want to seek permission to sell your crafts at la feria, you have to ask around in order to find out how to contact said jefes. If you are lucky enough to seek an audience with the jefes, they have a thorough process of deciding whether or not your handicrafts are sufficiently handmade, whether or not your heritage is sufficiently Argentinian, and whether or not they actually like you. And of course, lots of money is involved. There have apparently been a few rogues over the years who have attempted to bypass the jefes and simply set up a table on a Saturday to sell their handicrafts. This always causes major problems with the other vendors, and things often get violent. One time, in fact, things got so violent over an unauthorized seller of handicrafts, that the Argentinian equivalent of the SWAT team had to be called in to restore peace to this little hippie village in the mountains.

     The farm where I live is a 45 minute bus ride outside of town, up a rocky dirt road into the mountains. It’s a large piece of land, with a pasture in the front, a little pond by the house, gardens, greenhouses, a barn, and a chicken pen. The place where I live with the other volunteers is near the road, about a 5 minute walk from the main house. The animals on the farm include 5-6 sheep, 2 lambs, 3 cows, a bull, a horse, 3 rabbits, a pig, many chickens and roosters, a dog, and 2 cats.

The Characters:

     The family who owns the farm includes Cynthia, her husband Nacho, their 17 year old son Federico (“Fede”), and their 12 year old daughter Sol. The kids don’t speak any English, because the rural school they attend doesn’t offer language lessons. We don’t see much of Fede, because he has a car, and you know how teenage boys are. But Sol is really outgoing and often interacts with us. Cynthia is about the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’s one of those people who makes it hard to be in a bad mood when you’re in their presence. She claims she doesn’t speak English, but she understands a lot more than she lets on. The farm and the volunteers are mostly her thing, so she’s the one we see and interact with most often. I’m not entirely sure what Nacho does for a living, but my understanding is that he’s some kind of handyman/mechanic.

     Cynthia takes 4 volunteers at a time. My first week here, there were 2 other volunteers, Anna from Sweden and Mike from England. They were here together, and they were lots of fun. Even though we were all fluent in English, we often would speak in Spanish together just for practice. A couple of days after I arrived, we got a fourth Volunteer, Marie from Paris. She also speaks English almost fluently, and Spanish at about the same level as me. After a week of being here, Anna and Mike left, and another volunteer from Chicago arrived- Jacob. As of right now, it’s Jacob, Marie, and me, but 2 more people will be arriving on November 11. None of the other volunteers thus far have any experience with farming. In fact, we’re all city-folk, and most of us used to have desk jobs. I was surprised to find so many people with a similar story.

The Typical Day:

     We wake up at 8:40, put the kettle on, get dressed, and fix breakfast. Breakfast is usually toast with jam (or porridge if we haven’t made bread recently), and maybe scrambled eggs and a piece of fruit which we buy in town. Hot cocoa or tea to drink.

     Work starts at 10am with feeding the animals and watering the baby plants in the greenhouses. We then work with Cynthia, usually in the greenhouse since it’s too hot to do that in the afternoons. Often during the morning hours Cynthia makes “terere” for us, which is a delicious cold maté/juice drink. Sometimes terere simply takes the place of work, and we’ll sit in the shade and drink and ask Cynthia about her life and her neighbors and the local sights to see.

     We have a lunch break from 1 to 4, during which we might eat pasta with sautéed onions and leeks; rice with sautéed vegetables; mashed potatoes with sautéed vegetables; or a pumpkin bake with sautéed vegetables. There isn’t a ton of variation in what we eat.  Potatoes, leeks, onions, garlic, and Swiss chard are in abundance, but not much else. We don’t have a refrigerator, so meat and dairy are not really an option. We work again from 4 to 7, usually in one of the outdoor gardens, or sometimes repairing the fence, or gathering leaves in the forest for the garden (my least favorite job), or chasing the neighbor’s horses around the property to get them back to whatever hole in the fence they made. Occasionally Cynthia invites us into her kitchen to cook with her during the afternoon. She taught us how to make bread, we helped her make pizzas for Sol’s birthday, and next week we get to make buñuelas with Swiss chard.

     At 7pm, we head back to the casita with whatever veggies we’ll need for dinner, then it’s lots of chopping for a dinner that’s usually ready around 8:30 or 9 – standard for Argentina. After dinner, we build a fire, play card games, and/or read.

The Weekends:

     Friday nights are typically spent at the casita, because we finish work too late to catch the last bus into town. The first two Saturdays, we all went to town on the 9am bus and spent the day there, walking through la feria, using the internet café, getting pizza or a burger for lunch (Meat! Cheese!), lying in the sun in the park, and buying some fruit and eggs for the week. We take the 6pm bus back to the farm, because the bus doesn’t run on Sundays, so we can’t stay the night. Saturday night we usually make a nicer dinner than usual, maybe with steak from the grocery, accompanied by some wine and card games. Sunday is for relaxing, doing laundry (by hand), spending some time on the wifi by the house, catching up on journaling, and making bread for the week. We get creative with our time and entertainment; yesterday we spent a good hour playing dictionary games. Farm life will do that to a person.

     This weekend was a bit different than the previous two. We went to town on Friday afternoon, because we got off work early. This being the case, Saturday we decided to hike to something called Cajon del Azul. An hour into the trek, we arrived at La Confluenzia, where a turquoise river and a dark river join together. Gorgeous. After la confluenzia, we continued to hike for an additional three hours, up seemingly endless hills, through giant wooded forests, and amongst gorgeous views of the mountains. After a total of 4 hours hiking, with blistered feet, aching quads, nearly empty water bottles, and no Cajon in sight, we decided to turn back. With as much uphill climbing on the way there, I’m not quite sure how there seemed to be even more uphills on the way back, but there definitely were. It was possibly the most physically taxing thing I’ve ever done. When we reached the rural outskirts of town, I seriously considered asking for a ride from the two moustached gauchos who rode by on their horses, but I thought better of it. Thankfully, when we had made it back to the main dirt road, Cynthia and Nacho just happened to be driving by, so they picked us up and drove us back to the house. Exhausting day, but beautiful sights. And it was really interesting to see just how remotely some people live here. Literally in places that can only be reached by horseback.

General Thoughts:

     This life I’m living seems worlds away from what I’m used to. I shower maybe twice a week, never wear makeup or fix my hair, and my fingernails are always dirty. Every meal is prepared from scratch, and desserts are a rare and wonderful thing, even when it’s a simple rhubarb crisp. I’m having to become accustomed to the Argentinian perception of time, which is really no perception at all. If the bus is supposed to arrive at 3, you can safely assume it won’t be there until 3:30 at the earliest. If it’s 7pm, and you’re about to start getting dinner ready when a neighbor stops by for a visit, you pull out some homemade champagne and sit outside and chat for an hour, no problem. Additionally, in Argentina, life seems to revolve around maté, which is almost always served when someone comes over for a visit, and Cynthia always has a thermos of hot water and a mug full of yerba leaves no matter what time of day. It’s unfortunate that I don’t care for the taste, because she’s always passing the mug around, and I don’t want to be rude.

     I’m really enjoying my time here, maybe even more than I expected, but I know I’ll be happy to be home, to eat the foods I’m used to, to have a hot shower, and of course to see all the people I care about. Until then, “Ciao ciao!”

time makes you bolder

Recently I was on a road trip with a good friend. We had been in the car for a few hours and were nearing our destination. We were both excited about spending the weekend exploring a new city, escaping the normal routine for just a couple of days. But, as we exited the interstate, I acknowledged a certain apprehension I felt about arriving at our destination. It wasn't because I was nervous about where we were going. It was because the car ride to get there had become comfortable. I didn't have to make decisions, solve problems, or even have new experiences. All I had to do was sit and stare out the window. It was boring, but it was comfortable; and there is an underlying something inside of me - perhaps an innate survival gene - that prefers the known and comfortable to the unknown.

I've found this to also be the case with seasons of my life. I'm about to embark on a huge transition - maybe the most dichotomous change I've ever experienced - and I'm both excited and terrified in equal proportions. Just 2 weeks ago, I was sitting at my desk, in my khaki slacks, air-conditioned office, with filtered water, and thinking about how, one month from that day, I would be on a farm in a foreign country, surrounded by people who speak a language that I only kind of know. I was terrified to leave my desk. I was so bored at my desk, but I knew that the phone was going to ring, and I was going to have the answers to the questions that the person on the other end would ask me. I knew there would be an admin meeting at 10:30 on Thursday, and I knew that my lunch was waiting for me in the conference room fridge for me to eat at noon. These were certainties - boring ass certainties.

I emailed the farm owner the other day to ask about the laundry situation. Unknown. I'll be taking a bus from Buenos Aires across the country to El Bolson. I have to find my way from the airport to the bus terminal, find the right bus, exit at the right stop, change buses, and then change buses again. Unknown. I'm going to be sharing a room with three other volunteers from somewhere else in the world. They might not speak English or Spanish. Unknown. Did I mentioned I'm terrified? Did I mention I'm excited?

When kids are on a long road trip with their parents, they constantly ask, "Are we there yet???" They can't wait to arrive, because the stresses of arriving to the unknown are not their responsibility. Mom and Dad will take care of things. When you grow up, you no longer get to depend on other people to take care of the hard parts of change. You have to do it all yourself. And that's the hard part, but that's also the exciting part. This will be the first time I go on a vacation all by myself. My safety, my day-to-day, and how much fun I have is completely up to me. I'm about to find out a lot about myself. My limits, but most importantly, my capacities.

"You know how the time flies;

Only yesterday was the time of our lives.

We were born and raised in a summer haze,

Bound by the surprise of our glory days...

...Nothing compares, no worries or cares

Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made.

Who would've known how bittersweet this would taste?"

Adele knows what's up. By that I mean, she knows how to make me weep when I wasn't even sad in the first place. It doesn't even matter that I'm not currently experiencing heartbreak. Gonna weep anyways.

Seriously, Adele, stop it with all the knowing me better than I know myself nonsense! Sometimes I have to be places, and then you start singing your beautiful melodies through the radio and before I know it, I'm all puffy and red from crying, and then I have to explain myself to whoever it is I was on my way to see.

Not cool.