Our First Week of School

After travelling like vagabonds since August, we've finally settled for a while in Mendoza. The city, in the center of Argentina, and more importantly, in the center of wine country, is small but beautiful and very relaxed. Some of my favorite Spanish and Italian customs are observed here (i.e. siesta, and great red wine) and the large tree-lined avenues and dry warm weather make it a perfect walking city.

We are living in the loft bedroom of an incredible apartment (complete with jacuzzi and awesome fairy godfather) near school. On our first day, we were separated (practically surgically given how long we've been spending 24/7 together) into different levels for learning and practicing Spanish. Yes, i'm better than M'er! In M'er's class there's a very nice British girl and a Lithuanian who arrived 30 min. late for the second day of class in the same dress as the day before, but we're here to learn, not judge. In my class there's a New Zealander here after volunteering at a hospital in Tanzania, a British Immigration lawyer (who got a bit too stressed defending refugees), and a home-schooled 19-year old non-drinker from Texas. Kyle is a bit on the naive and shy side but very sweet, so i've already learned to be discreet in Spanish (especially since we are continually asked about the political situation in the US).

But probably the most comical things happen outside school and mostly at night or during siesta. There was Sunday when M'er and I were starving at 3pm and couldn't find anything but Mr. Dog's, a fast food joint focused on hot dogs (they LOVE hot dogs) and promptly nearly vomited. There was an evening in and around Plaza Independencia where we saw (but didn't understand) some sort of comic magic show where the performer "magically" changed his clothes with the help of two audience members on stage (??) and a seeming Argentinian Indigo Girls cover band (but even less attractive). And of course there was last night, when M'er and I tried for the first time to tango. Needless to say we got LOTS of attention from the instructors (and I from a toothless, bald and chubby local) and still only managed to master the tango version of box step. Errrrr, como se dice "better luck next time"? The good news is we only misunderstood the Spanish instructions and walked in the wrong direction once!


This weekend we're off on a biking tour of the wineries (perhaps ill-advised) and a hiking expedition near Aconcagua. Pictures to come when we return!

How Mel Gibson Helped to Make a Great Trip

Now in Argentina, I think I can admit that I have been anticipating this part of the trip more than our week in Chile. Valparaiso is incredibly beautiful but as Rachel mentioned, we were perhaps more entertained by the seemingly infinite number of teenagers making out in every public place we went. What is especially memorable for me was the amazing trip over the Andes Mountains into Argentina, thanks in part to Mel Gibson.

Long distance bus trips are common in South America – common for tourists and even for the folks that live here full time. Upon boarding the bus in Valpo for Mendoza (a scheduled 8 hours) we met a couple going home to Salta, another 17 hours to the north. Given the length of these rides, the buses are well equipped with super-comfy seats and they provide both meals and entertainment. These days Mel Gibson only indirectly entertains a few of us through the tabloids, but I think we can remember a time when he was much more appealing. This bus ride brought me back to that time.

On the Chilean side we were treated to snow capped mountains that create steep waterfalls. The 2 hours we spent at the boarder provided the gateway to views of Mt. Aconcagua. At over 21,000 feet it is the tallest outside of the Himalayas. The perfect backdrop to these breathtaking views is Mel Gibson’s inspiring speeches and cries for freedom in the featured film, “Braveheart.” It was truly an emotional experience descending the Andes through canyons, next to lakes and gushing rivers while also watching a rabble of Scots fight to live their lives as free men against Lonshanks’ English. You may want to download some bagpipe music before viewing the few pictures we were able to take through the bus window. (There’s pics of Valpo and Santiago too.)

Santiago, Chile...also known as...1985

So, if we found the future in Wisconsin, we've landed leg-warmer deep in the recent past here in Chile. Just a three hour ride to Miami, a five hour layover, an AWFUL Giants game, an eight hour flight, a half-hour bus ride, and a twenty-minute walk with all our belongings, and we were here: The Eighties! It seems the me-decade didn't end in recession, it just moved south for the winter. Upfront Chile's all business, in the back...it's party time!

Ok, you get it, they dress like a John Hughes movie gone skater...and it's awesome. Yes, M'er is considering a mullet and I feel odd wearing anything but hot pink skinny jeans, but we're enjoying ourselves nonetheless (and M'er thinks we're the best-looking people here...that's right, WE).

So far, we've roamed the nation's capital and found some great neighborhoods with gorgeous brightly colored homes, climbed a couple hills for views of the snow-capped Andes through the overwhelming smog, oh and witnessed about 1,000 public makeouts. The only thing Chileans seem to love more than Mullets and Empanadas is public displays of affection. It almost seems the city was planned for it. The numerous shady plazas with ample park benches, the grassy medians between avenues, the metro...seriously, on your next commute take a look around and tell me how many darkish corners you see that could/should be filled with teenagers groping each other. My guess is at least 20.

Tonight we headed to Valparaiso and rather than watch the presidential debate, witnessed Chile and Argentina in a battle royale, futbol style. Chile won for the first time in 20 years, and that's why this post is a bit boozy. In addition to numerous replays of the only goal scored and chants of "Vamos Chile!" "Chi-Le, Chi-Le, Viva Chile!", we're enjoying this UNESCO world heritage site, its public graffiti-art, its pot-smoking teenagers, its red-rover playing children, the sunset, the moon rise, and the hostel owned by the guy who wrote our guide book. More on this all later...sans booze.

Thanks for hanging in there while we shifted from Road Trip to Back to the Future. We'll try to be more consistent from here on out. And thanks for indulging my pontificating...we're back to the light stuff now!

Pics to follow as soon as we can covertly capture some of these mullets on film.

A Summary of Leg #1: USA

DC - What a sad good bye! It seems like everyone's dropping out of DC (Zawel, Goldstein, Seb, Diana...) Hang tough Brett, Leah.

NY - How I drove a Uhaul through the underpasses on the Belt Pkwy without crashing the roof, I'll never know. And a great wedding.

IN - Giant sand dunes and a beautiful beach? Who knew?

IL - Old friends, a happy birthday, an additional passenger. He is fun.

WI - Trolltown, Futuretron.

MN - Way to go with the wind power. And my first sighting of the Mississippi River. I love rivers.

SD - Our first "Holy crap," moment occurs in Badlands NP when we first played pioneer. Resurgence of American history.

WY - Yellowstone is a peek into our geologic past. Lander, the liberal oasis in a red state. Some good will earned us delicious cookies that kept us from running out of gas.

UT - Good bye to Zaks. Hello to 3.2% beer. Go to Souther Utah. It's amazing, but BYOB.

AZ - It was grand to hang out with Melissa and go into the Canyon. When will I do it again? To the Colorado River: you're my favorite! Sorry Mississippi.

CA - Rancho Moroma was the perfect place for stay for the perfect Mendoza wedding. A tour of Warner Bros studios, thanks Melis! Joshua Tree is just like it was in Entourage. We didn't bring mushrooms, so maybe it was a little different.

NM - Real cave dwellings in Canyon de Chille. Acoma is the oldest continuously inhabited place in the US. We saw their 13-family pueblo mesa and left with a hand-made vase. Santa Fe is full of art and history while we enjoyed the Balloon Fiesta in
Albuquerque (see pics below).

OK - High tailing it home, we finally had time for a Frito Pie. Yum!

And that does it for the USA. We leave town Monday, Oct 13 for leg #2. Please enjoy the pics below of Joshua Tree, Canyon de Chille, Santa Fe, and Alburquerque.

How the West was Won, and Lost, and Won Again

Well, we've returned from our little Jetta-powered version of the Oregon Trail and are gearing up to head to South America. Stay tuned for the next chapter (and a little more about our last days and encounters), but in the meantime, here are some musings from our time in the area:

It was less than a mere hundred years after our nation had been solidly founded and accepted when the prospect of the unknown, and a dream of bigger adventure and bigger fortune lured young America to the West. The promise of riches, nearly free land, religious freedom, minerals, and just plain open space began the first of the many boom-bust cycles that would shape the Southwest.

There was the gold rush, the silver rush, the Mormon invasion, the Uranium boom, the most recent tourism boom, and what appears to be yet another burgeoning Energy boom. Each of these boom periods (with the exception of the Mormons, they’re here to stay) was followed by an equally dramatic bust. It was during these bust times that the scars on the landscape were made apparent and the move toward what would be the next boom was often born. There are crumbling ghost towns, abandoned mines, and failed attempts at farming an arid desert. There are run-down Indian reservations where gambling and junkyards rule the roost. There are abandoned roads through the Canyonlands with shadows and tire-tracks of former Uranium prospectors. Most notably, there are massive dams with drying lakes revealing a beautiful canyon flooded for the sake of irrigation, energy production, and further development. Each of these scars, in time, faded into the background of the landscape as the next boom took shape. The lingering spirit of the Wild West, the loss of the American Indian, the end of the final frontier and with it the end of the traditional American dream, are all reminders of minute eras to an area that has adapted, evolved, and changed as necessary throughout time.

The most recent tourism boom seems a response to all the failed attempts at taming this region: an acceptance that our most lucrative use of the land will come from respecting it, observing it, and appreciating it. A war for ownership of the current and enduring tourism boom is being waged between the RV Rustler’s and the European Union in the backdrop of National Parks from Zion to Yellowstone. The EU has utilized a venerable artillery including favorable exchange rates, high gas prices, and nationally generous vacation time but the RV Rustlers stand strong declaring: “We are Americans, we have a right to vacation, to consume, and we will run you Smart Car toting foreigners right over”. Those Germans are tough, but I wouldn’t mess with Ruth Ann and Gerald; they’ve been around and those visors and tracksuits are just plain intimidating.

But on the horizon seems to be a struggle even more dichotomous than young Europeans vs. grizzly retirees. It’s a fundamental issue being played out all over the US but nowhere more starkly than here in the unforgiving environment of the Southwest: the energy boom, and whether it steers ahead toward renewable resources and technological advancement, or continues along that old American consumer adage with “Drill baby Drill”. We’ve noticed everything from windmill farms, solar panels, and EPA-certified off-grid towns (way to go Moab) to new rigs, a massive opening of BLM lands to oil exploration, trucks, and RV’s from Wyoming to Arizona. The resources exist for both sides, as does the will. With the nation split along ideological lines, I believe it will be the environment that decides. Will mineral resources prevail once more or will this unforgiving landscape refuse to yield and demand compliance and respect with the threat of yet another bust?

The region’s surviving native nations, plants, environment, and even pioneers of this region have all learned to adapt, evolve and move forward past the scars and harshness that have been thrust upon them, and radiate with an enduring natural beauty. As the nation faces the ramifications of a similar cycle, can we look at this example of graceful endurance and muster the unified strength to adapt and evolve beyond this bust?

The Grand Hype

“I walked out of the Grand Canyon in 1983 and had an epiphany. It changed my life. I quit my job and moved to the southwest,” is how Richard, our rafting guide describes his experience. “It was a life-changing, spiritual experience.” The route we chose to enter the canyon, the South Kaibab trail took us down over one mile past rocks that are over one billion years old to the Colorado River. With these facts in mind, I prepared for an experience similar to his.

Most visitors, however, are not like Richard. Most are of the variety that ride the tour bus to the South Rim, look over the edge, snap a few pictures, and remark, “wow – it’s big.” Then again, the Cool Kids hiked down and back to celebrate their 50th birthdays.

We had been “training” for the plunge into the canyon since our trip began. As the day approached and all of the stories and warnings (bring enough water!) we’ve heard piled up in my head, I couldn’t help but be just as nervous as excited. Over 200 a year take an emergency $5,000 helicopter ride out of the canyon. Our course we made it without the chopper.

For me the Grand Canyon was more than just big but there was no epiphany. It was a completely unique experience for me. Some people, most in fact, spend about 45 minutes peering over the canyon walls, and some are changed forever. For me, the experience was comfortably in between extremes and completely awesome. I am glad I can say that for myself instead of hearing or reading about it. I will hike into the canyon again, and probably out on the same day. I want to see the North Rim. Who would like to join me?

Of course we came across the usual ridiculous characters. The physical therapist who detailed his multi-month training regimen while hailing the merits of the ski-pole-like walking sticks. As awkward and frankly annoying and ugly as he is, he was able to pick up a cougar down on the canyon floor. She was traveling with two friends that she ditched for the nerd's 'expertise.' His 300-lb dad was waiting for them at the top- all in all a pretty aggressive first date.

The Cool Kids

Over the course of our near month of travels and immersion into the life of the retirees and European holiday-goers, we’ve begun to take on some of their characteristics. No, we haven’t bought visors, matching track jackets, or an RV, but we do often eat dinner before sundown and retire to bed shortly after, invent hectic schedules for ourselves involving rising with the sun, and most importantly readily talk to and take interest in strangers…especially in confined spaces.

So imagine our delight when we learned that Zion Canyon may only be traversed via free Park Service shuttle. Not only does this help to preserve the environment and avoid the traffic jams that would otherwise be endless in this immensely popular park, it offers unceasing opportunities to speak with fellow travelers, for conveniently limited amounts of time. Trust me, it’s not easy to end a conversation with an intrigued 80+’er.

Unlike Bryce Canyon, where we were amazed at how even the oldest and fattest visitors mustered the strength to enter and ascend the canyon, Zion is arranged at the bottom of the canyon leaving us plenty of opportunity to feel superior to our fellow visitors by passing them at the handicap accessible loops and moving right on to the difficult climbs of 1,500 to 2,000 feet. All of this was ground to a halt however when we met the “cool crowd”. During a late afternoon shuttle ride we encountered a group of stylishly but appropriately outfitted hikers in the 65+ crowd. After I noticed the French tips and four carats holding a walking stick and wearing wet moon boots indicating a recent trip up the Narrows (an upriver hike through a slot canyon we’d been debating) I had to know their story. Turns out this is a group, many of whom are Chicago natives transplanted to Denver, who travel together hiking the most challenging and impressive peaks and valleys in the National Parks and enjoy fine dining and high-end lodging at the end of their grueling days. In short, they’re who we want to be. Luckily, we hold a youthful exuberance they find charming. We hit it off immediately and planned to cross paths again at the 1,500-foot cliff-climb the next morning.

Thinking we’d gotten our typically early start (after all they’d talked us into making time for the Narrows in the afternoon), we worried we’d not see them on the trail…we’re really fast hikers. We should have known better than to underestimate a group that celebrated their 50th birthdays hiking the Grand Canyon, the adventure we’ve been mildly fearing for three weeks. With a lot of hustle, and a few necessary breath-catching breaks, we caught up to our friends just before they attempted the 500-foot ascent where the trail is three feet wide and drops more than 1,000 feet on either side. After congratulating them on achieving this feat in honor of their 65th birthdays, we reluctantly parted ways.



The hikes were challenging, the views rewarding, the full moon astounding, but what we loved most about Zion was being embraced by real live retirees. We are social outcasts no more. Having finally achieved this important distinction, we move on to the Grand Canyon.