Road Trip - Crossing Canada

June 7, 2010

I am sitting on a dock in Sault Ste. Marie at Martin and Sue's camp. John, Andrea and Nick are walking through the forest, finding a good spot to dive into the lake. I've got a cold, but the fresh air and the warm sun are helping. We started our month-long road trip two days ago (which actually could have been yesterday, now that the days seem like weeks again).

I do know that the first night it rained, and I realized, for the first time, that I'm scared of the sound of rain hitting the tent. I'm sure there will be other discoveries like this along the way. For now I'm rediscovering what it feels like to be in my element - experiencing.

- A man can stand anything except a succession of ordinary days -

J.S. Von Gothe

A Return to BsAs, A Final Farewell

Just as I always return to the city after my adventures outdoors, we returned to BsAs for the last week of our journey.

Spending time with our Argentinian family was the last thing we were really looking forward to. Edgardo and Belen took us to a futbol game in La Boca, where pride and energy were in abundance. We took tango lessons with Belen down the street, and learned some sweet dance moves we're sure not to forget. We took Nico to a drum festival downtown and got to hear some sweet and crazy female vocalists jam with the bongos. We enjoyed a couple late night dinners in the "family only" kitchen of Aroaz, and even were driven to a newly bought apartment of theirs in order to look through a box of old and funny photos of the family.

Needless to say, when Edgardo was ready to drive us to the airport, we were not excited to go!

But alas, tans on our faces, souvenirs in the bag, and Fernet and Mate in the belly, we headed back to North America - back to the hard life.

Making Connections, Cordoba

Our last night spent traveling in the innards of Argentina was in Cordoba, Argentina's oldest city. For the first time in 3 months we found ourselves with a traveler's guide and so took to the churches and cathedrals, with detailed descriptions of each at our side. When we were done in the city we headed an hour East to a small town called Tanti, on a bit of a gamble, to meet (and hopefully stay with) Chofa's son, Eduardo.

We lucked out again ("When it rains, it stops") because Eduardo was a really kind host, and the three of us bonded over hikes, music, shredding corn, a failed lentil soup, and a night out on the town. In only a day and a half it was heart-wrenching to say goodbye.

I don't know how we did it all, but we did (and hopefully will do it again... and again).

Chance Encounters, Mendoza

Mendoza is the wine capital of Argentina (as if we hadn't drank enough wine two and a half months into our trip!) We stayed in the nicest hostel we had dared stay in up to this point (excluding our house in BsAs). Huge kitchen, private bathroom, TV, outdoor swimming pool!

Our most memorable night and day consisted of a late night run in with some young Argentinian boozers, and a subsequent invitation to a birthday party of a folk dancer, which we gladly, and drunkenly, accepted.

The party was held on a beautiful property situated on the wine fields, in view of the mountains. Initially awkward outsiders, John and I eventually became the stars of the party, being serenaded by Beatles songs in broken English, and old Spanish folk songs that sent electrifying chills through the air. We had signed copies of books given to us, ponchos lended, and a drive all the way back to our hostel. Another successful adventure off the tourist track!

Aside from a horrific encounter the next morning with the managers of our hostel, this part of our journey was well worth it.

From the Depths to the Divine, Cafayate

Not all days are that good though...

Though we left Salta with a bitter taste, and a hole in our hearts where my personal belongings used to be (stolen), we bravely headed south to a small winery town called Cafayate.

There we met with fate - a bottle of organic red wine and Felipe, a Columbian artisan, a spirit with kind eyes and a magnetic and healing aura. Into the mountains we went together, broken hearts slowly mending, eyes slowly opening to an alternate reality - one without 'things'.

My Spanish at this point was apparently good enough to make great friends - telling jokes, teaching and learning dice games and card tricks, discussing worldly political injustices. Felipe, Chofa (a warm father figure), Hacinto (a wolf-dog), and John and I shared a magical day and night in that mountain house, picking walnuts, making art, sharing food, and transforming a moment that was so by chance and transient, into something so organic and forever.

If it weren't for Cafayate, and these mountain men, the last month of our trip may have been injured instead of enlightened.