Caballos! I'm not...obsessed?

Yeah, so ever sice I stopped riding I haven't had a lot of time to be around horses. Some here and there when I could beg a ride out of friends or make the time but I guess I didn't realize how much I miss it!


Anyways, the point is -- my study abroad experience might be turning into one of the best horse experiences of my life as well.


Horseback riding in Patagonia (El Bolson) - 3 hour ride across a beautiful river, up a mountain, and to a short hike. Cool horse, only walked, but got to pick blackberries on the way up. Stephanies first time on a horse!
Nuestro Caballos - Horse expo in Plaza Italia. Whole post on this one too (begin of pilar trip) Met some amazing people, got to see hundreds of my beloved Criollo's, talked to some gaucho's, and watched a true Argentine rodeo. Learned a lot about the horse culture here.


Pilar - there's a whole post on this. Possibly the best day I have had in Argentina. no joke. Plus, it's opening my mind to the world of western riding, natural horsemanship, and possibly liking Arabians. maybe.


Riding in Mendoza - this is when I realized I might be obsessed. I hung out at the gaucho's place across the street from our cabanas just to hang out. A small little shack of a place, I'm pretty sure this is in a post somewhere too...but it ranked up there with Pilar - he let me lead the ride (INCREDIBLE views, and some of the scarriest terrain I've been on) and took me galloping by ourselves in the sand dunes!


Polo - well, we could call this my second education. I spend more time now at the polo barn than at school. Amy ( another girl from UK, who I happened to have played polo with my only time riding for the schools team!) and I go every tues/thurs and lately...have been throwing in visits other days of the week too. It just feels good to be in a barn! It's a big one too - with jumping, dressage, equitation, and polo. Starting to get to know the horses too, which is always fun. Ihave had one lesson (Post on that soon) but other times I go to take pictures or just hang out and pet some horses. The guys there aren't too bad on the eyes either. ;) We went to a tourney last weekend which was an incredible experience - about 2 hours away at a polo club. We hung out in the owners house and "took tea and dulces" for a bit, made an amazing new friend Domi, and watched polo ALL day. We left at 8 am and got home around 10pm. I'm coming to really respect the sport, and find myself wanting to play more and more - but money is the problem. I've got my second lesson this week, but unless a little money fairy comes down it looks like I'll keep drinking mate by the arena.


It's also resulted in a lot of planning. AKA - to save enough money to eventually ship a criollo horse up to the states. Now here, there is no mistake - I am obsessed with this breed. RReally, truly, obsessed. I just can't believe how beautiful they are every time I see them, their confirmation, their color (mostly grullas and duns), their manners, their soundness...to say the least - I want one.


Anyways, I'm getting pretty into it all this horse business again...to say the least. Enough so to possibly buy a pony when I get home. Just saying :)

Lately, I haven't been able to get over that feeling that everything really does happen for a reason. Now, I have always believed this but for the most part I have not had such obvious examples, things that I have been able to trace a path of decisions, events, choices...I have had these small epiphanies, little feelings, big decisions, tears and joy and lately it has all just felt... right. I still worry, make too many plans, and make mistakes but the biggest thing is I never find myself asking "what if?"

All of the events in our lives add up to the sum, the whole of it. I am a firm believer that happiness is found in action, that it does not just come to us and that it is also a state of mind. I have already adressed this a bit, but more than ever, I am realizing how swiftly our lives can be pushed onto a different track. Despite the countless decisions and happenings that put me on track to live in another country for a semester, the earthquakes in Chile are what I look back at when I wonder how I got to where I am today.

It all plays out like a movie every time I think about it; the first flight from Atlanta and hearing all of the spanish speakers, hugely excited for a country I had researched relentlessly for months. I had my passport in my hand getting on the plane, finger pressed against the new Visa I had picked up in Chicago after months of mail, calls, money, and paperwork. I was shaking of excitement, imaging my new host family, the two dogs, the fresh seafood and small coastal towns I would visit. My head was swarming, but I was not only happy - I was worried. My first time flying internationally, my limited spanish freezing up, disolving as I tried to recall the simplest phrases. Then the issue of time, the weight of what I was about to do coming down, the idea that anything and everything that happened in the next four months wouldn't include me. That my friends and family would continue living their lives, and I would not get to laugh with, go out with, hug, kiss, share with any familiar thing for such a long time. And then the worst relaization: that my being gone was not going to put life on hold, that bad things were still capable of happening. That one of my most loved family members was having a surgery, that I would not be able to visit if I wanted, that illness does not wait for convenient times. All of this and more, swarmed through my body and head as I tried to stay composed getting onto the plane...this is what I remeber.

And then there was the flight - each small event feels so much bigger in my mind, and the smallest details still stick out more than 2 months later. I put my bag above, pulling out the book of Chilean Slang, a spanish translator and my book A Thousand Miles in a Million Years. The plane was huge, and my bag barely fit. Still shaking, I tried forcing it above me, attempting and failing to look like a seasoned traveler. A group of grad students got on, loud and cliquey. A man from barcelona sat behind me. One of the grad students sat next to me, and as we said hello and discussed our reasons for travel we bagan what would end up being a friendship through one of the biggest events in my life. Over the next 8 hours, we talked about everything. He was from somewhere in New England, Jersey I think and I couldn't shake how he looked like a boxer - and so much like an old friend of mine. He was cocky, loud, and sarcastic. We got along great and it took my nerves off of the trip completely, he was a good confidence booster and his comments made me believe I was actually ready. We disagreed on almost everything, but it is shocking how much you can get to know a person if you really talk with them for a few hours. We ate gross airplane food, and talked more - about factory farms, grad school, northern accents, how much I like to talk, God and religion...everything. For as much as this plane ride affected me, I don't remember much of the actual point that we turned around. It was dark and we had had some horrible turbulence, there was lightning and sideways rain and I remember that being my biggest worry. Exhausted, I fell back asleep and was woken up when I bumped my head against the window. Some people were mumbling and I looked at the huge map showing out direction and I tried to adjust my sight when I saw that we were going back over Costa Rica, but in the other direction. I was sure it was broken. I shook him awake and maybe five minutes later the pilot came on and announced "Chile has experience an earthquake and we have lost communications with the Santiago airport, we are flying back to Miami until we know more." It's funny becase I really didnt freak out - I didn't feel much of anything. It's almost like I expected something to happen, that the insane amount of work and research I had put into getting to Chile, how perfect my host family had seemed, how easy my goodbyes were - they all added up to something funny, like there was no way I could make a smooth entry becasue it was all lining up too perfectly. But when I say that a 8.0 earthquake was the last thing in the entire world I expected to disrupt the process, I am serious. I'm pretty sure the most common reaction was laughter. Just short, abrupt laughter. It wasn't possible. The map had to be broken. We weren't actually taking a 12 hour flight back to where we started...

By the time we had landed we had heard news of the damage, that it had hit concepcion and aftershocks were coming. The airport felt like another world coming from the shocked silence of the plane - the hours after the news were monotone. Everywhere, TVs blared the news of the quake, the rising death toll, comparisons to Haiti, images of houses that were pancaked, warning for resulting Tsunamis...

When peple ask if I was angry or upset, if I cried... I try to explain that I didn't cry becasue it wasn't possible to cry. As I stood there with my brand new carry-on and Chilean Student Visa, I was watching images roll across the screen next to people I had just been sitting on a plane with, but the difference is that what I was watching was just a country I had created in my mind. It was their reality, their houses, their families. I met a couple who I had passed several times during the flight, I remember them being so perfect looking sleeping together under the tissue thin airline blanket. We were trying to figure out our ticket situation and had been in line for almost an hour when I began talking with them. They were Chilean, from Santiago, but were studying in Maryland. They were dating and were flying back home to go to her little sisters funeral. I found this out from the boyfriend, as I watched the girl sit against the wall, crying so hard, speaking Spanish so fast I couldn't grasp what was wrong. I assumed it was the funeral, but I was wrong. She came over to us and told her boyfriend that both of their houses had been destroyed, flattened. Her moms had been too and they were trying to contact family to make sure everyone as OK. Thats all she said. And then they hugged - no more tears, just holding eachother and with a deep breath they turned to me ....and asked if they could do anything to help me. I almost collapsed. I felt insulted, disgusted, overjoyed, baffled - that these people could have just found out the most terrible news, and still want to help out an American girl that was just getting ready to study abroad. I still get chills when I think about it. I think that's when I fell in love with the people of Chile despite never having stepped onto its soil.

Anyways, what started as a long trip got even longer - I stood in line and met people with similar stories, and it was not possible to feel bad for myself. I couldn't cry becasue in comparison I ha nothing to cry about. I felt lucky.

The rest of the trip through the airports still sticks in my mind, but I feel like that will fade...it was full of trials, experiences that will prove to help me with future travels, and an amazing amount of helpful people. I remember feeling overwhelmed by the amount of good I had seen in people through the journey back home. So many plans were made, changed, cancelled in such a short amount of time. I was given a choice between studing in Costa Rica or Argentina, the Chilean program was off. I just remember laughing, considering flipping a coin to make the same decision that I had put so much work into the first time. I settled on Costa Rica, I'm not sure why. Maybe becasue it was further away from the earthquake, or that it was the first country my program director had told me. I got on another plane somewhere along the line to go home after finding out my bags had been sent to KY and I wouldn't be able to go to Costa Rica until I had them, but had to get off after mechanic issues proved to be too difficult to fix. I complained, finally broke down, and just wandered around the Atlanta airport. When I was finally on my way to KY, I wasn;t sure if I'd be able to say goodbye again. The fragility of life, the unexpectadness and reminder of how fast things can change had shaken me up a bit. But then there were the more powerful waves of confidence, of knowing that I had to go somewhere after how long I had prepared. When I got off the plane and walked to the baggage claim of Lexington almost exacty 24 hours later and saw my mom in almost the same place I think it hit me. Not in an overwhelming, lay on the floor and cry way (I had already had that in Atlanta) but in a matter-of-fact-get-on-with-your-life-way. I was lucky. I was back home, safe, and was still looking at options for a semester abroad. The people I had met were just beginning a horrible journey of rebuilding and reorganizing their lives as I was hugging my mom.

My bags were still lost - turns out they had never left Atlanta and the mean attendant who had casued my break down was simply "mistaken." But lost bags weren't a problem, it was almost laughable actually. It turns out the series of events I went through leading up to this mistake ended up helping me out. We spent a couple more hours at the counter trying to talk with my program, figure out where in the world I was going, and for me - trying not to pass out. I was exhausted. Leslie, the woman helping me with my program whom I had already spoken with through the past couple months could not stop praising how well I was taking the situation. I wanted to explain to her everything that had happened, tell her why I was still able to laugh and that she could just choose my country for me becasue I had no more brain power left, but I just said thanks and praised her for her life saving calm and organization. So I changed my mind and picked Argentina. Not sure why, just an accumulation of little things, its proximity to Chile, and lack of sleep. I didn't know anything about either place, so the decision was not terribly difficult. Other than that it left the next day - I wasn't sure if I was ready to do it all over agian, and home was looking safer and more comfortable every minute.

Time at home flew. Besides the massive sense of deja vu, I went shopping, visited some worried friends and laughed at the situation becasue that's all we could really do. And I slept - probobaly some of the best sleep in my life. I said hey to my sister and my dog, and another friend came over just in time to see me re-packing my freshly delivered bags.

Then it was back to the airport. I said bye, but it was different this time. Still a big hug, but it was bittersweet. It was easier because we had already done it, but part of me thought it was harder, becasue I couldn't accept this time I'd actually be gone so long. I felt like I would be back the next day, like my Chilean trip had ended up. I wasn't shaking or nervous, and this time I did look like a seasoned traveler. I didn't have any nerves, and had a comfortable flight back to Atlanta. The layover was hard, every TV spoke about the earthquake and the 300+ person death tole, and the Hawiian Tsunami scare. I laughed when I realized my plane to Buenos Aires was leaving from the same gate as my Santiago flight. Go figure. As first class boarded, the backpacker-esqu man next to me leaned in and whispered "must be nice!" I shook my head in agreement, chuckling but really just hoping for a window seat. I began boarding and when the attendant looked at my ticket she signaled for me to seperate from the line and turn left....to first class. I corrected her, and told her I did not pay for it. She shrugged and said "well, that's your seat!" I was PUMPED.

So there is a happy ending, in fact - there is not an ending...I'm still on this rollercoaster of a journey and I couldn't be happier with it. Of course, there is nothing good or happy about the earthquake and I still want to find a way to help out...but the amount of growth that happened in that short window of time is one of the biggest things that has ever happened to me. I was reminded how strong people are, and got reminder after reminder that people as a whole are good. I learned language barriers can be dissolved when you really try and that one little thing can either ruin your day or just cause a ripple. But more than anything, I learned that things always work out.

I got first class becasue of the bag incident and the mean man who casued my break down. I met some amazing people that I have kept in touch with and who I know I will cross paths with again someday. Ilearned that sometimes not knowing is half the fun, and that mourning what could have been only makes you miss out on what is. I ended up in a beautiful city with even more beautiful people who I can now call my friends. I have traveled, tasted awesome food, and learned a bit more Spanish. I have a polo lesson this week, and am going back out to Pilar to visit my barrel racing friend. I am lucky. Blessed. All of the above.

So that's about the whole story of those couple days. People ask me a lot if I am happy here, if I wonder how life would be different if it had not happened. But I can't answer that, becasue I do not know. I am more than happy here and I do not think of what could have been becasue if I do, I will miss out on what is happening here and now. I will make it to Chile eventually, and I can't wait to make memories there - to see the place I know so much about and maybe exercise some of the unused travelbook knowlege I accumulated before those days. But that's for another post. For now, I am going to keep living and loving Argentina while I still have time to and take comfort in the fact that things DO happen for a reason.

That's all for now....Besos!

The little things

Just a list of the quirks and maybe some of the less glamourous things I've picked up so far..

• the idea that napkins should be absorbent is a foreign concept...instead they are little sheets of parchment paper used to decorate the tables
• you get used to water unidentified water dripping from above you..people say it's just watering plants that leak onto your head on the way to school, so I'd like to continue believing that's what it is
• people here are good multi-taskers. They can drink mate, walk to work, AND avoid the unusually common piles of dog poo. I've been lucky but have witnessed my fair share of unfortunate victims
• The reason for the poo: the rediculous amounts of dogs, and even more impressive - the dog walkers who will fill the entire sidewalk with batches of up to 14 dogs. Always with mp3 players in, arms braced, and the most talented: riding bycicles
• Peter's - hot dog store with toppings ranging from jalepeno cream spread to corn salsa, always with potato fries on top...you eat here after 4am
• Loco drivers, that goes for collectivo's, taxis, and personal drivers...and all drive manuals, so automatics here
• Despite my high hopes for south american food, if you are trying to live on a budget their diet consists of empenadas, pasta, and milenesa
• They put hard broiled eggs in, on, and around just about everything
• The sidewalks here are more like obstacle courses with uneven blocks, teeter-totter ones, and best of all - they are camoflouged to look exactly the same so it's always a nice surprise

This could be one of those memories...

So here's the back story: I went to Nuestro Caballos after reading about it in one of our weekly e-mails of what to do in BsAs. It was one of the biggest horse exhibitions in the country and better yet, it was only about 6 blocks from my residencia. The description was brief, saying the place would have about 1,200 head of the finest argentine horses...but not much more. So I grabbed my fellow horsey friend and UK go-er and we headed off to see what it was all about. I had my doubts that the center of this huge city could have any kind of legitimate horse experience and when it came time to pay the 15peso entrance I was setting myself up for a bit of a let-down. Long story short we ended up watching some horse sales, shopping for some polo gear, and looking at the rows upon rows of criollo horses. After watching some of the reigning competition, my friend ended up leaving as she had to get home but I decided to wander outside to the warm-up ring for more photo opportunities. All the gauchos were hanging out with their horses, and polo and pato players were warming up. After being wrapped up in taking their pictures I noticed a peruano horse being exercised for sale and decided to test out my spanish with some of the horse owners. After chatting with several, I was directed to a woman who knew some english. We talked horses for a while and I expressed how I wished there were somewhere close by I could just ride instead of paying for expensive tourist rides that only allowed you to walk. Turns out I was talking to the right lady. My new friend Valerie is a very successful barrel racer in Argentina and her husband is a talented trainer of criollo horses - he "makes" horses as she says. So she loaded me up with plenty of free passes for the next day of competition and I left with her phone number, an invitation to her farm, and the bus number i would have to take with the direction that she would "pick me up at the gas station."

Fast forward to Wednesday, the 21st. I am woken up by a call from an unknown number, and stumbling to the dresser I answer with a raspy "Hola?!" After a short conversation with my new friend, I have all the information I need and am on my way to Plaza Italia with 2 freshly bought empanadas and no idea what to expect.

I wish I could say my language skills and independence have improved enough to make the bus stop a breeze but it's not quite there. After some translation by fellow spanglish speakers and an understanding driver, I had a round-trip ticket to Pilar..about an hour trip each way. I saw my bus, jumped on, and closed my eyes for the ride.

About 40 minutes in, with a panicky feeling in my stomach, I realized I had no idea where to get off. In desperation, I asked the girl next to me "Hablas ingles?!" and to my huge relief she responded with a smile and "yes."

Again, luck and the ever-friendly people of this country were on my side again. She talked to Valerie and happened to know the bus driver and set it up so he would tell me when it was my turn to get off. After that, we chatted about the cultures, her one visit to the states, and I answered her many questions about things like cheerleaders and sororities. When it came time for her stop we went to the front and exchanged numbers to hang out in BsAs later. She thought I was very brave, and I'm sure a bit stupid after realizing I was on a bus, didn't speak the language. and was headed to a strangers house but assured me the people in Pilar were extremely nice and I was going to love being out of the city. She wished me luck, and two stops later I was given my queue and hopped off on the side of a highway next to my destined gas station. Sure enough, Val was there and after a quick hug and hello we headed off. We caught up a bit, talked about her kids and husband, about her horses and accidents, competitions and accomplishments.

A few minutes later we pulled up to a quaint but beautiful estancia-style house in a secluded half-wooded, half-field area. The whole house was decorated in photos of her family’s life with horses, old saddles of varying styles, bits and a a huge mate collection she attributed to her husband Gonzalo. After more talk, and playing with her 3 awesome dogs I was introduced to Linda, her 8 year old chestnut Arabian mare and best friend. She invited me to eat some sandwiches and juice while we talked and my favorite of the dogs, a rescued golden retriever laid his head on my lap while Linda wandered close by.

Soon, it was time to ride. She groomed and tacked up with a smoother looking western saddle that her friend makes (super light weight) and told me to hop on. After some walking and just getting comfortable she taught me the basics of barrels, showing me the hip movements, how to look and stressing that Linda knew what she was doing, and if anything went wrong it would be because of my mistake not hers. So the pressure was on! Soon though I had her cantering a figure 8 around the 2 barrels and was feeling great being back in the saddle. Val’s daughter came out and watched and brought mate that we all drank to give Linda a break. I couldn't stop smiling already - drinking mate with locals I had met on my own, yelling and giving commands in Spanish on top of an incredible horse in a beautiful place outside the noise and rush of the city, meeting more and more friendly people as the day went on.

But then she took it a step further, and I don't think I've stopped smiling since. When I first met her she had mentioned showing her horse without a bridle, but I did not expect her to do the same for me. But sure enough she was leaning forward, taking Linda's entire bridle off and replacing it with about a 4 foot rope for something to hold onto around her neck. I was pumped. We started right off, and the horse was amazing...at one point I was going the fastest I had, staying tight to the barrels and got frustrated when we made a wider turn. Val had to shout to me, "remember, you are riding without a bridle!" We galloped a bit around the pen, testing out turns, and getting more and more comfortable with the speed and the sudden changes in direction before calling it a day. I had been riding for almost 4 hours and could tell I was going to be in pain the next day, but didn't care. I have always wanted to try barrel racing, and I'm not sure if my into to the sport could be topped.

Before leaving I watched some youtube videos of her husband’s horses, drank chocolate milk and eased off the leather paddock boots she had lent me for the day. Her daughters friend came over and we all hung out listening to The Beatles and Maroon5, waiting for her to get ready for work. The whole time I was in a mixed state of shock and bliss. It was the most comfortable I had been yet in BsAs, with the type of people and lifestyle I love most, and I felt completely at ease and in my element. I was proud that I had followed my gut instead of letting the fear of going alone or going with a stranger stop me.

So, saying goodbye to the dogs, and jumping in the back seat with my adopted family of the day, we headed back to town. Her husband and step-son met us there as we dropped the daughter off at work and all made a combined effort to help me catch the right bus back with careful directions which stop to take. With lots of hugs and kisses goodbye, I thanked them, and jumped on my bus home. I hope to see them again and even more so - to continue to take even more opportunities as they come.

It was a seemingly small event, but for me it was a pivotal part of my experience here, and I will never forget the day I took the colectivo to a bus station somewhere in Argentina.

Pshh...This doesn't look too bad

As I clumsily ran off the red sandy rock below, launching myself into the fun but slightly unspectacular zip line, I was feeling pretty confident.

We were in Mendoza, our CEA crew once again exploring a new part of the country and alienating even more argentine hospitality workers. This time especially, the setting was spectacular. It reminded me a lot of Arizona with the desert landscape and varying shades of red and orange mountains. But what really got me was the water - it was an amazing turquoise, and ran the perimeter of where we were staying. We ended up rafting it, but I'll save that for later.

The guides had outfitted us in about 20 minutes with our gear and harnesses, and picked groups by saying "you here, you there." No orientation, boring talks, or signing waivers. Just getting right into it.

So as I zipped across the small canyon, I prepared myself for an amateur morning of baby-adventure. I'm not quite sure where this confidence came from seeing as how I have never repelled before...but even after the upward hike to the top, even after seeing each of my peers drop themselves more nervously each time off the side of the cliff - I was sure it would be a piece of cake.

At almost the same moment the guide grabbed my hip clip and attached me to the various ropes anchored on the mountain, I realized I had no clue what to do. He had given a quick show-and-tell kind of presentation in spanglish, but I was still feeling so confident, I'm not sure I listened closely enough. He tugged me forward, my goofy red helmet slumping a bit with the jerk. I stumbled forward, still OK and coordinated...I even grabbed the right rope and hooked my left hand around my harness like I had seen others do.

That’s when I saw the edge of the cliff. Woops. My already limited spanish went up about two octaves and shook as I asked if he was sure I was doing everything right. I have to say leaning backwards over the rocks and people below did a good blow to my temporary confidence. He ended up keeping me there for a bit, turning his back on me (and my potential fall to the jagged rocks below) to tell the group to look at my good form and technique thus far. Now normally I would like this kind of praise, however small, but I couldn't contain my look of sheer confusion after the statement.

All of a sudden he said, "bye-bye, adios!" and there I was...letting line out, pulling it in, step-step, down the side of the mountain. The only part I clearly remember is turning around to look down and seeing the guide below and a huge bulge in the rocks I was walking down in mid-air.

As my feet touched down in what felt was 30 min later, but was more like 5...I felt pretty good. And intact with a confident smile and incredibly shaky hands I went to join the rest of the group.

Pshhh we said, "that was a piece of cake."

Sometimes it's the little things..

..that make me realize how much I have to learn. On a whim yesterday my new roommate and I decided to grab some ice cream and get our hair cut. Random combination I know, but it was time for some change. We tried out a different (and better) ice cream place than usual and headed to a place she knew of for our hair. It was around 8pm, but they do things later here. After roughly communicating that I wanted my hair cut and I didn't have a lot of money, I jumped into the chair to get it washed an start the process. A guy with bleached faux-hawk hair who looked close to my age was my hairdresser for the evening. Funny thing about guy hair-dressers: they are no less men even when taking care of your hair. Compared to my place back home, where my head is massaged to the point where I am smiling and want to fall asleep..this was more of a sports deep tissue massage. As I strained with a half-grimace and he pulsated his fingers across my scalp I couldn't help but worry a bit about what I'd gotten myself into. Being that my roommate is from Ecuador I ran to her after being released from the sink and had her translate my short version of the cut I wanted: some layers, kinda side bangs, and I guess whatever he thinks looks good. So there I sit, and he starts snipping. It felt like an eternity and as he slid his fingers down a large chunk of hair, stopped short, and CHOP! much earlier than I expected, I swallowed my stomach. I think he could tell I was mentally preparing myself for the baseball hats and scarves that I would need to cover the poof that was being created because he just smiled and did a stair like motion to show it was for layers. It didn’t help much but I smiled, nodded, and told him everything was good. Well, after the cut, it was time to dry. I honestly couldn't tell much difference in the length despite the piles of hair at my feet, so I was feeling a bit more confident. I basically closed my eyes for the next 40 minutes as he pulled and super-heated my head. Listo! he said as he held up a mirror and to my incredible surprise, my hair was looking pretty good! A ton of layers, just like every other girl in this country, mostly straight with some curl at the bottom, and best of all - not too short! I was calm again, happy, and best of all - not broke. It only cost me 55pesos for wash, cut, blow & style...less than $15! So I have now tried some of the best tiramisu ice cream in Palermo, and am sporting a new, and so far OK, local haircut. Next time though, I might try to brush up on my salon vocabulary ;)

The Pressure!

So, if you know me -- a few things probobally pop into your head. Rediculously disorganized, loves food and animals maybe more than the regular bear, and in the best possible way - not totally there sometimes. I daydream alot, I procrastinate, and I make lots of little lists to make myself feel organized in the chaos. I'm a nester, leaving little piles of necesities in obscure places, becasue I will obviously look for my travel size toothbrush and yoga information in the back pocket of my camera case when I need them most.

Call them quirks, oddities, personality, or problems....it doesn't make a difference. But the reason I have decided to go on about this is because life abroad has only intensified these (we'll call them quirks)..quirks. A good example:

I have tried keeping a rough budget here and there...so when 200 pesos went mysteriously missing, I was a little concerned. After a thorough cleaning of the room, I decided to go a bit deeper. The following is a good reason to not read too many travel blogs and "travel tips" before your first big experience - I ended up finding almost all of the 200 pesos (and some centavos) in what were supposed to be inteligent and thief-proof places. AKA: the soles of my shoes, inside a bra, in various interior pockets of clothing, and even a few in my bed. It doesn't help that the money here is tissue thin, and seems to disolve in your pockets. I have no explanation for my logic and am equally amused and embarrassed when I find my money in these places but at least for now, it loos like I will never be comletely penniless in a crunch!

But now for the main point. This blog has intesified these quirks, or perhaps just the stress of them. In saying I am disorganized, I mean I do things differently. If we have ever talked you will know, I am a story teller. I will use snapshots, experiences, stories I have heard -- anything to convey the point. It's just how I communicate. But what this also means, is there has to be a story worth telling. I have not written in a while becasue of the stress of it, the pressure to record each thing as it happens, chronologically - so I will not forget. And then there are the things I have to have something to say about, because how could I not? Like seeing some of the most impressive waterfalls in the world, or "backpacking patagonia"...well, I've decided that's just not how my mind works, at least not for now - I think I'm going to try writing about the things that impress ME the most. And who knows, maybe it will be the next cool exotic place or it might be about the funny old man at the kiosko.

My point is this: The quirks, oddities, and problems with myself, with the people here and the food, the country....is their personality. The more I have traveled around here, I am getting that the cool part is not the relocation, it is seeing the repetition. That people everywhere are good, and that everyone and everything, despite their quirks seems to be looking for the same thing. I love getting to experience the things I have, but I also don't want to lose sight of how much I enjoy and learn from simply being around differnt people in a different place.

Just some thoughts. But in keeping with the chronological a bit here are a few things I've done recently that might get some elaboration soon:

• Misiones (Jesuit ruins), Iguazu National Park, and visiting the Guarani Indians...excursion with CEA and a really amazing weeking in a different part of the country
• Bariloche and El Bolson: My favorite places in Argentina so far - amazing Andes mountains, hippie/ski city...best hostel in El Bolson with very cool people...known for their homeade chocolate, beer, and one of the most visited areas in Patagonia

It's been more than a month now, and I'm still enjoying the ride. Up's and downs, slower days and ones I will never forget. Can't wait to see what the rest of this trip will bring!