It is not customary for me to write a new post after so recently (barely two days) completing my last one, but I am bored, lonely and somehow suffering from insomnia despite my grueling week. I should be sleeping, but instead I'm writing.
So what to write about? I don't honestly have much to say tonight. This is the fifth night in a row that I've slept by myself and the bed seems big and cold. I'm bummed out, trying to plan a fun activity for myself tomorrow- solo. I should be excited that it is Saturday, I'm free, and I can go anywhere I want. I am in a strange, open country and it is finally warm enough to spend extended periods outdoors. But I feel blue, nonetheless. And this realization makes me feel even more blue, because it leads to an even more upsetting revelation: I think I've become one of those "couple" travelers. You know the ones; that cute couple who never ventures out alone, who look at each other to finish sentences and leftover food. Who only make friends with other couples and never like to entertain. Yeah, I think I'm one of THOSE.
Sure, it sucks to travel alone after you get used to having a partner. Its sooo nice to know you have someone to watch your back, and your bags when you have to use the tiny, dirty, bus terminal bathroom. Its wonderful to have someone else who can tell your stories, explain your background and travel itinerary, and just talk when you are too tired. And here, especially, its wonderful to travel with a man and avoid sticky (potentially scary) situations when you get invited out by a horde of restless men or end up in a shared dorm with six guys all scratching their balls through exefficio boxer shorts in the morning. It's nice to avoid the inevitable creepy tricks and undercurrent of sexual conquest that always seem to haunt the lone female traveler.
And yet, I am an independent woman! I have traveled across the Indian subcontinent all by my lonesome, and made good friends along the way. I have lived in foreign cities, I have gotten lost (and found my way home), disentangled myself from leering men, navigated a crowded rush-hour subway, all without the aid of a partner. I am good at planning adventures, making friends. Why should this be so hard for me now? I guess co-dependency is catching, and highly addictive.
So here is my vow for the weekend: I WILL be an independent traveler and I will experience something new on my own. Even if it is a small trip, I feel I must break this cycle of loneliness that is so obviously of my own making. As I read on Sabi's facebook today: "Loneliness is a state of mind. It's not about finding the right person, it's about becoming the right person." Even though I am blessed with a partner who assuages my feelings of loneliness AND finishes my leftovers, I need to become my own counsel, my own best friend. So tonight, I will sleep in the middle of this big bed, spread-eagle and unapologetically hogging all the covers...
August 27, 2010
August 26, 2010
I Went: Skiing in the Andes (Finally)
The title is a give-away. The experience was not what I expected. I survived to tell the tale. Here goes:
On Monday, we finally strapped on some fiberglass, pulled on those torturous boots, and swaddled ourselves in fluffy parkas and waterproof pants. Indeed- we finally went skiing in the Andes. When you come to South America just in time for winter and especially if you decide to settle just a stone's throw from the Andes in cozy Mendoza, you would think that a ski trip is more or less compulsory. After all, the Andes Mountains boast some world-class skiing. Portillo, just a few kilometers across the border in Chile, is the official "summer" Olympic training grounds for ski racers from the northern hemisphere. Bariloche, south of Mendoza, is world-renowned for its towering peaks. And Las Lenas is one of the largest resorts in the whole southern hemisphere. Unless you are a "lodge bunny," skiing in the Andes is a dream come true.
Unfortunately, not all dreams come true exactly as you imagined. Last season (2009) was one of the best on record in South America. The resorts were positively dumped on for 3 full months, and many an extreme skiing video was filmed in the area. However, as is so often the case, a fantastic season is often followed by a drought of sorts. Alas, 2010 turned out to be one of the WORST seasons on record. One well-known resort near Mendoza, Penitentes, never even managed to open this season. The Andes remain stubbornly brown, only their uppermost peaks graced with a light dusting of snow. In addition, the Zonda wind (see my previous entries for a fuller explanation of this freak meteorological phenomenon) has been particularly brutal this season, routinely closing down ski lifts and summit runs for days at a time. So, despite all my longing to scurry off to the mountains all winter, the Andes didn't put on much of a show for me.
However, after my friend Lele wrote me from India to say: "I hope you've gone skiing," I felt it was time to take the chance, spend the money, and get myself to the slopes before this once in a lifetime (I hope not, but let's be realistic) opportunity irrevocably passed me by.
While a normal season would yield plenty of options for skiing in mid-August, the dismal 2010 season forced us to chase the snow. In addition, the trek was complicated by our tight and constantly conflicting work schedules. The result being that we had only one day (36 hours) to get to a resort (with snow), ski, and get back to Mendoza in time for my 8am class on Tuesday. Apparently, this is not normal judging by the reaction of locals, who grimace in mock horror (or maybe real?) and say something along the lines of: "no no not for me" or "I guess you're young."
Nonetheless, we went for it. We rented skis, boots, parkas and other assorted necessities. We packed food for three meals. We pulled our turtlenecks and buffs out of the bottom drawer, where they were resting peacefully after a loooong winter. We bought two bus tickets, and we spent a lot of money. We were off to Las Lenas, rumored to have decent snow and within ten hours drive time from Mendoza.
Here is a brief recap of our day:
4pm-12am Pat works his Sunday shift at the hostel.
1am To the terminal with 80 pounds of gear (slight exaggeration, but not much)
2:30 am We board the bus for Las Lenas
8:00 am Arrive at Las Lenas
8:15 am Finally wrestle our equipment from the bus and head to the resort
8:30 am Return to Las Lenas bus terminal for our lift tickets
8:45 am Janel spends 80 pesos on a pair of "Made in china" sunglasses
9:00 am Mate break
9:15 am finally on the lift
9:30 am still on the lift as we struggle (slowly) toward the summit
9:45 am see above
10:00 am First run!
5:00 pm Off the mountain, back to the bus
5:30 pm Leave Las Lenas just as fresh snow starts to fall
12:00 am Arrive back in Mendoza
8:15 am Janel oversleeps and misses her class.
So was it worth it? To be honest, the snow was crap. Mostly ice, some slush on the lower runs. It was crowded, despite being a Monday and the lack of snow. The lifts were incredibly slow, most of the mountain bare dirt and very ugly. It was extremely expensive and we are both still exhausted from the grueling schedule. But...
I still had a blast! Maybe my seemingly unwarranted enjoyment had something to do with the fact that I haven't been skiing (anywhere) in 4 long seasons. Maybe I loved it because it was something new. Maybe I managed to find beauty in all those high peaks, stacked up against each other like so many dominoes as far as the eye can see, even if they were brown instead of white.
Without a doubt, our timing was terrible. But in the end, I think I'll still take a nice day at Timberline or Beaver Creek over the Andes in the future. For one thing, there are no trees in the Andes. The runs are bare and stark and decidedly less magical without those enchanted tree tunnels. For another, everyone seemed to be a novice, leading to a lot of accidents on the slopes. And finally, even the double blacks were pretty boring. I expected more excitement from all those jagged peaks. My assessment: overrated.
On Monday, we finally strapped on some fiberglass, pulled on those torturous boots, and swaddled ourselves in fluffy parkas and waterproof pants. Indeed- we finally went skiing in the Andes. When you come to South America just in time for winter and especially if you decide to settle just a stone's throw from the Andes in cozy Mendoza, you would think that a ski trip is more or less compulsory. After all, the Andes Mountains boast some world-class skiing. Portillo, just a few kilometers across the border in Chile, is the official "summer" Olympic training grounds for ski racers from the northern hemisphere. Bariloche, south of Mendoza, is world-renowned for its towering peaks. And Las Lenas is one of the largest resorts in the whole southern hemisphere. Unless you are a "lodge bunny," skiing in the Andes is a dream come true.
Unfortunately, not all dreams come true exactly as you imagined. Last season (2009) was one of the best on record in South America. The resorts were positively dumped on for 3 full months, and many an extreme skiing video was filmed in the area. However, as is so often the case, a fantastic season is often followed by a drought of sorts. Alas, 2010 turned out to be one of the WORST seasons on record. One well-known resort near Mendoza, Penitentes, never even managed to open this season. The Andes remain stubbornly brown, only their uppermost peaks graced with a light dusting of snow. In addition, the Zonda wind (see my previous entries for a fuller explanation of this freak meteorological phenomenon) has been particularly brutal this season, routinely closing down ski lifts and summit runs for days at a time. So, despite all my longing to scurry off to the mountains all winter, the Andes didn't put on much of a show for me.
However, after my friend Lele wrote me from India to say: "I hope you've gone skiing," I felt it was time to take the chance, spend the money, and get myself to the slopes before this once in a lifetime (I hope not, but let's be realistic) opportunity irrevocably passed me by.
While a normal season would yield plenty of options for skiing in mid-August, the dismal 2010 season forced us to chase the snow. In addition, the trek was complicated by our tight and constantly conflicting work schedules. The result being that we had only one day (36 hours) to get to a resort (with snow), ski, and get back to Mendoza in time for my 8am class on Tuesday. Apparently, this is not normal judging by the reaction of locals, who grimace in mock horror (or maybe real?) and say something along the lines of: "no no not for me" or "I guess you're young."
Nonetheless, we went for it. We rented skis, boots, parkas and other assorted necessities. We packed food for three meals. We pulled our turtlenecks and buffs out of the bottom drawer, where they were resting peacefully after a loooong winter. We bought two bus tickets, and we spent a lot of money. We were off to Las Lenas, rumored to have decent snow and within ten hours drive time from Mendoza.
Here is a brief recap of our day:
4pm-12am Pat works his Sunday shift at the hostel.
1am To the terminal with 80 pounds of gear (slight exaggeration, but not much)
2:30 am We board the bus for Las Lenas
8:00 am Arrive at Las Lenas
8:15 am Finally wrestle our equipment from the bus and head to the resort
8:30 am Return to Las Lenas bus terminal for our lift tickets
8:45 am Janel spends 80 pesos on a pair of "Made in china" sunglasses
9:00 am Mate break
9:15 am finally on the lift
9:30 am still on the lift as we struggle (slowly) toward the summit
9:45 am see above
10:00 am First run!
5:00 pm Off the mountain, back to the bus
5:30 pm Leave Las Lenas just as fresh snow starts to fall
12:00 am Arrive back in Mendoza
8:15 am Janel oversleeps and misses her class.
So was it worth it? To be honest, the snow was crap. Mostly ice, some slush on the lower runs. It was crowded, despite being a Monday and the lack of snow. The lifts were incredibly slow, most of the mountain bare dirt and very ugly. It was extremely expensive and we are both still exhausted from the grueling schedule. But...
I still had a blast! Maybe my seemingly unwarranted enjoyment had something to do with the fact that I haven't been skiing (anywhere) in 4 long seasons. Maybe I loved it because it was something new. Maybe I managed to find beauty in all those high peaks, stacked up against each other like so many dominoes as far as the eye can see, even if they were brown instead of white.
Without a doubt, our timing was terrible. But in the end, I think I'll still take a nice day at Timberline or Beaver Creek over the Andes in the future. For one thing, there are no trees in the Andes. The runs are bare and stark and decidedly less magical without those enchanted tree tunnels. For another, everyone seemed to be a novice, leading to a lot of accidents on the slopes. And finally, even the double blacks were pretty boring. I expected more excitement from all those jagged peaks. My assessment: overrated.
August 19, 2010
A Day in the Life
Today I:
Skipped Spanish class. I didn't do my homework and I felt disinclined to suffer the humiliation...again. Call it a "mental health day."
Ate 4 medialunas (baby croissants, smeared with dulce de leche) while sitting on my bed in my "fat pants." If I were watching Bridget Jones and nursing a vodka tonic, I might start to worry...
Tried to add up my finances by calculating exactly how much money we've spent in the last 4 months, minus the amount of money we have made. I gave up in despair (see previous entry) when i realized that I have made less than $500, total.
Woke up to a beautiful spring morning, with countless birds chirping and the sun shining (and warm!). The pleasures of spring were so acute that I elected to leave my ipod at home for the first time in months, needing no distraction to compel me to trek to work.
Got hit on about 20 times on my way to my first class. The best of which went something like this: I cross the street and the sun falls on my face as I leave the shadow of a tall building. The 75-80 year old man hobbling across the street opposite me stares, open-mouthed, then grabs his heart and moans "ah, mi corazooon!" I stop, alarmed and suspecting a heart attack. Instead, he gives me a mischievous wink and does a small jig, still in the middle of the street. Classic, mildly creepy, but mostly adorable.
Fell in love with my boyfriend all over again when I read his heartfelt blog entry (while on my medialuna binge). It is wonderful, rewarding, and beautiful to see him open up, to find himself and grow here. I only hope we can find ourselves... together.
Finished the second book of the trilogy entitled "Josephine B." that my mom sent me from home. This shameless smut/historical fiction has a mysterious hold on me. I think the last time I was so entranced by almost sleezy romance with a taste of historical fact was the "Outlander" series, after which I swore I would find me a sexy redhead. Hmmm....
Ate a pound of meat lasagna. IN ADDITION to the medialunas. Now that spring is here, I guess its time for a run?
Searched in vain for a bicycle pump. Like most things in Argentina, a small task somehow made large, time-consuming, and ultimately futile. I did find a bike shop that might be able to put some air in my two flat tires, IF I haul it across town AND somehow ignore the soft-core porn pasted on all four walls (floor to ceiling). This may a perfect candidate for "would you rather..."
Visited five separate ski rental shops, searching for the lowest price and the most obnoxious neon one-piece ski suit around. Unfortunately, it turns out that renting a boring gray north face jacket is cheaper than an adult onesie that 1982 threw up on. How can that be correct? This is taking the hipster scene too far! I demand to be photographed skiing in the Andes wearing a neon pink jumper. Let's make it happen, Argentina, I've only got one chance.
That's about it. Boring, completely unproductive (unless you count eating my body weight in fat), and yet completely typical of my life here. I'm not sure if I'm doing something right or failing miserably at life. I've never felt so aimless...
Skipped Spanish class. I didn't do my homework and I felt disinclined to suffer the humiliation...again. Call it a "mental health day."
Ate 4 medialunas (baby croissants, smeared with dulce de leche) while sitting on my bed in my "fat pants." If I were watching Bridget Jones and nursing a vodka tonic, I might start to worry...
Tried to add up my finances by calculating exactly how much money we've spent in the last 4 months, minus the amount of money we have made. I gave up in despair (see previous entry) when i realized that I have made less than $500, total.
Woke up to a beautiful spring morning, with countless birds chirping and the sun shining (and warm!). The pleasures of spring were so acute that I elected to leave my ipod at home for the first time in months, needing no distraction to compel me to trek to work.
Got hit on about 20 times on my way to my first class. The best of which went something like this: I cross the street and the sun falls on my face as I leave the shadow of a tall building. The 75-80 year old man hobbling across the street opposite me stares, open-mouthed, then grabs his heart and moans "ah, mi corazooon!" I stop, alarmed and suspecting a heart attack. Instead, he gives me a mischievous wink and does a small jig, still in the middle of the street. Classic, mildly creepy, but mostly adorable.
Fell in love with my boyfriend all over again when I read his heartfelt blog entry (while on my medialuna binge). It is wonderful, rewarding, and beautiful to see him open up, to find himself and grow here. I only hope we can find ourselves... together.
Finished the second book of the trilogy entitled "Josephine B." that my mom sent me from home. This shameless smut/historical fiction has a mysterious hold on me. I think the last time I was so entranced by almost sleezy romance with a taste of historical fact was the "Outlander" series, after which I swore I would find me a sexy redhead. Hmmm....
Ate a pound of meat lasagna. IN ADDITION to the medialunas. Now that spring is here, I guess its time for a run?
Searched in vain for a bicycle pump. Like most things in Argentina, a small task somehow made large, time-consuming, and ultimately futile. I did find a bike shop that might be able to put some air in my two flat tires, IF I haul it across town AND somehow ignore the soft-core porn pasted on all four walls (floor to ceiling). This may a perfect candidate for "would you rather..."
Visited five separate ski rental shops, searching for the lowest price and the most obnoxious neon one-piece ski suit around. Unfortunately, it turns out that renting a boring gray north face jacket is cheaper than an adult onesie that 1982 threw up on. How can that be correct? This is taking the hipster scene too far! I demand to be photographed skiing in the Andes wearing a neon pink jumper. Let's make it happen, Argentina, I've only got one chance.
That's about it. Boring, completely unproductive (unless you count eating my body weight in fat), and yet completely typical of my life here. I'm not sure if I'm doing something right or failing miserably at life. I've never felt so aimless...
August 13, 2010
Lonesome
Feeling lonely, feeling low.
Feeling like I have nowhere to go.
Feeling cold, another day of snow.
So lonely, so low.
Feeling like I have nowhere to go.
Feeling cold, another day of snow.
So lonely, so low.
August 6, 2010
A Little Spring in my Step
Lately, I find myself to be increasingly thankful for what I have. This is a welcome reprieve from the self-loathing and intense feelings of failure I have experienced for a number of weeks. One day last week, shortly after the last failed attempt to cross the border I believe, I simply lost my mind. That is to say, I lost the ability to communicate internally or externally, and I could feel myself reeling from too much stress. At this point, I wisely kicked Pat out of our room, turned on some soothing yoga music and proceeded to meditate for roughly 30 minutes. The deep, conscious breathing and the soothing music brought me back down to earth long enough to see how much I have to be thankful for. Here are a few notable things I would like to mention:
Even though I have a bright red rash on my cheeks from daily exposure to the bitterly cold air that has been wailing through Mendoza this week, everyone keeps telling me that really: this is probably the last cold spell of the winter. Halleujah! Spring is on the way. I have never been more ready for a sunburn in my life...
Several weeks ago, my warm-hearted mother took pity on me and sent a box of clothes, books, and Burt's Bees chapstick via USPS. As many of you may have heard, the post office in Argentina is fairly world-renowned at losing, stealing, or permanently interring international mail at the customs office in Buenos Aires. After hearing the recounting of several tales of woe from friends and acquaintances here, I harbored very little hope of ever receiving said package. If it did make it to me, I fully expected to pay an exorbitant fee for the privilege of carrying it out of the post office in one piece. However, by some inconceivable stroke of good fortune, my package not only made it to Argentina, but to the local post office in Mendoza in one piece: unopened, unmolested and mysteriously free of accumulated charges. In the end, I walked out those doors clutching my package to my chest, blissfully unaware of the cruel, cold wind with a Chirstmas-morning smile plastered resolutely on my face.
After weeks of fairly starving for work as we struggled to pay our rent AND buy food, offers of employment have been comparatively flying my way lately. As many teachers here have commented: it is extremely difficult to get started but once you are established a bit, there is plenty of demand. In other words, if you want to come live in Argentina, you most surely need a very large nest egg to live off for at least a few months. But eventually, your name gets around, and if the people have good things to say about you, work will surely come your way. Now, my problem seems to be finding a way to make my schedule stretch and cut my commute time down to zero, while still partaking of that most glorious South American ritual: the daily siesta.
Against all odds, I have an incredible, warm, and cozy apartment that feels like home. Why do I say against all odds? Because every other foreigner I have met here has been struggling to find a place to call home. Some of them for three or four times as long as I have even been in Argentina. Why is it so difficult? It all stems from the fact that the government here likes to make it really easy to be illegal, and really difficult to be legal. And just like in the States, being an illegal comes with all sorts of problems and limitations. One of the biggest being the fact that you often have to pay your ENTIRE rent up front to find a place to live. Every time I come home, I feel so lucky to have chanced into this great place through a random connection that just happened to click.
I started Spanish class this week! The profound nature of this accomplishment can really only be appreciated by reading my blog entry entitled Mission Spanish: Impossible. I am greatly indebted to a certain gentleman named Sergio, who really went way out of his way to make this class work for me; including a price discount, a used book he scrounged up from the basement, and an offer of free personal grammar lessons if I felt totally drowned in my lack of formal training. To Sergio and all the others out there who really put themselves out to help others, I am so thankful for you!
And I am most eternally thankful for my family and friends. It has been difficult to make real connections down here, more difficult that I expected. Partly owing to the language barrier exacerbated my failure to learn Spanish before arrival, partly due to the insular nature of the community in which we chose to settle. Nonetheless, I often miss the easy connection of friends and family here and I am blessed to have many who care enough to keep in touch despite the long distance. Besos to you all! And to my most constant companion, friend, and support- Thanks Dumples- I love you more every day and I truly could not do this without you (and don't be mad that I published your nickname online...)
Even though I have a bright red rash on my cheeks from daily exposure to the bitterly cold air that has been wailing through Mendoza this week, everyone keeps telling me that really: this is probably the last cold spell of the winter. Halleujah! Spring is on the way. I have never been more ready for a sunburn in my life...
Several weeks ago, my warm-hearted mother took pity on me and sent a box of clothes, books, and Burt's Bees chapstick via USPS. As many of you may have heard, the post office in Argentina is fairly world-renowned at losing, stealing, or permanently interring international mail at the customs office in Buenos Aires. After hearing the recounting of several tales of woe from friends and acquaintances here, I harbored very little hope of ever receiving said package. If it did make it to me, I fully expected to pay an exorbitant fee for the privilege of carrying it out of the post office in one piece. However, by some inconceivable stroke of good fortune, my package not only made it to Argentina, but to the local post office in Mendoza in one piece: unopened, unmolested and mysteriously free of accumulated charges. In the end, I walked out those doors clutching my package to my chest, blissfully unaware of the cruel, cold wind with a Chirstmas-morning smile plastered resolutely on my face.
After weeks of fairly starving for work as we struggled to pay our rent AND buy food, offers of employment have been comparatively flying my way lately. As many teachers here have commented: it is extremely difficult to get started but once you are established a bit, there is plenty of demand. In other words, if you want to come live in Argentina, you most surely need a very large nest egg to live off for at least a few months. But eventually, your name gets around, and if the people have good things to say about you, work will surely come your way. Now, my problem seems to be finding a way to make my schedule stretch and cut my commute time down to zero, while still partaking of that most glorious South American ritual: the daily siesta.
Against all odds, I have an incredible, warm, and cozy apartment that feels like home. Why do I say against all odds? Because every other foreigner I have met here has been struggling to find a place to call home. Some of them for three or four times as long as I have even been in Argentina. Why is it so difficult? It all stems from the fact that the government here likes to make it really easy to be illegal, and really difficult to be legal. And just like in the States, being an illegal comes with all sorts of problems and limitations. One of the biggest being the fact that you often have to pay your ENTIRE rent up front to find a place to live. Every time I come home, I feel so lucky to have chanced into this great place through a random connection that just happened to click.
I started Spanish class this week! The profound nature of this accomplishment can really only be appreciated by reading my blog entry entitled Mission Spanish: Impossible. I am greatly indebted to a certain gentleman named Sergio, who really went way out of his way to make this class work for me; including a price discount, a used book he scrounged up from the basement, and an offer of free personal grammar lessons if I felt totally drowned in my lack of formal training. To Sergio and all the others out there who really put themselves out to help others, I am so thankful for you!
And I am most eternally thankful for my family and friends. It has been difficult to make real connections down here, more difficult that I expected. Partly owing to the language barrier exacerbated my failure to learn Spanish before arrival, partly due to the insular nature of the community in which we chose to settle. Nonetheless, I often miss the easy connection of friends and family here and I am blessed to have many who care enough to keep in touch despite the long distance. Besos to you all! And to my most constant companion, friend, and support- Thanks Dumples- I love you more every day and I truly could not do this without you (and don't be mad that I published your nickname online...)
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