El Calafate

It's crazy to think my time in Brazil has already ended. Only a little over two weeks into the trip, it feels like the first chapter is complete. And I managed to not get robbed :)

Yesterday I touched down in Argentina. I met up with my friend Andrew, whom I lived with during an internship in NYC in 2012 and this Patagonia excursion marks a five year reunion for us. Andrew just arrived back from Antarctica and at 27 has already been to 7 continents and spent the last few years traveling. The way he just capitalizes on his wanderlust is respectable and I couldn't think of a better travel companion to have for the next month.

We are currently spending two days in El Calafate, a town situated near the southern tip of Argentina, in the Patagonia region. It is kind of like a hiker's equivalent of a less-bustling port city, from which people take buses to various mountains, parks and glaciers to hike.

The climate is quite something. The arid conditions, biting wind and eternal sun (which rises at 6:30am and sets at 10pm) really makes it feel like you're at the end of the world. There's just not too much down here. A small town that appears to be supported by the farming and tourism industries located right on the banks of the brightest blue lake I've ever seen. It's a peaceful place with a slower life pace and extremely kind people. It's been a massive relief to come to a place like this from Brazil where I was worried constantly about getting robbed and how to safely transport myself and my belongings from point a to point b. Here I can move freely and it's liberating.

This morning that freedom took me on a run up into the foothills. When running I'm inclined to just pick a direction and find a road that leads somewhat straightaway in that direction. I moved from dirt road to paved road back again to dirt road. The rocks under my feet and uneven earth provoke caution as I'm wont to keep my ankles intact prior to our upcoming eight-day trek in Chile. The sun bright, the air brisk and cutting. I'm thankful I wore the extra layers, extremity protectors and sunblock. With stray dogs awaiting my arrival on each road, I wait until they rear their heads, informing me of their territory and politely suggesting a directional rerouting. I make my way straight uphill for the better part of two miles then I turn around. The wind that whipped at my face so intently finally now at my back, my cracked lips form a smile. The extent of my remoteness begins to sink in. In one direction, a dirt road up into the mountains. In another direction, sheets of ice plaster the sky and the light-brown landscape shifts slowly into a tundra. Moving westward from there, the lake with its calming colors and confident placement straddles the earth. My body feels great - in constant motion, my legs have regained a tone they haven't known since college and my head feels a oneness it hasn't known for some time. Life's priorities change from a hectic to-do list of 27 items at any given moment to three real priorities - food, sleep and shelter. Everything else is meant to pass through me as it sees fit. Whether it's the sense of adventure I felt in Brazil coupled with the sense of isolation or the sense of warmth and belonging from meeting up with a long-time friend, these emotions are all part of this experience. And as long as I take care of myself and remain an open vessel, whatever feelings that take hold and however long they stay, is right. Is correct. Is validated. And how freeing it is to know that whatever is felt is felt and whatever happens, happens. I can only control so much. It's an integral aspect of the travel mentality. And I'm beginning to really embrace it.