It’s Good to Be Back

I was so excited to finally come home, and on July 5 I made it. My buddy Christina came to pick me up at the airport, we IMMEDIATELY made a Chipotle run, and then we headed towards Lake of the Woods where my parents have a lake house. I’ve been spending the intervening weeks enjoying boating, sitting dockside, and even hosting some visitors down by the lake! Given how atrociously hot and humid the summer has been, it has been really lovely to cool off with a dip in the water… or a wine slushy at our nearby winery.

I’ve also been making some runs up to DC to visit my city-folk friends. It has been so wonderful to see all the people I love of course, but also to see the places I love. I am usually overcome with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia when I stroll the streets, particularly in Alexandria. It’s such a strange sensation, like… putting on an old pair of pants after you lost weight – they used to be perfectly comfortable but now they no longer fit just right. It weird to stroll down King Street, past my favorite stores, restaurants, and coffee shops, and think “I don’t live here anymore.”

Well, at least not for now. I have every intention of coming back. Someday.

Because one thing that being away from home so long has given me is the gift of realizing how much I love home. I know theres DC-haters a’plenty out there, but DC is really a great city offering world class restaurants, theater, museums, parks, and more. It’s clean, has enough activities to fill a lifetime, and has everything you could possibly need.  

Except great weather. I think we can all agree DC weather generally straight up sucks.

Even better for me, Alexandria has access to everything DC has to offer, but is separate. It’s a cute, charming city with its own vibe, history, and identity.  I miss it all terribly, and I am looking forward to coming back and building my life here again. But not yet. I’ve still got a lot of leavin’ left to do.

September will see me heading off on the next leg of my journey. I’ll be stopping in LA for a few days to visit a friend before heading to South Korea (to visit a friend) then Malaysia (to visit a friend). The five-ish month trip will also take me to Singapore, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam, Australia, and New Zealand. Hopefully I’ll be visiting and making many friends along the way – it’s yet another gift that travel gives. (It’s also given me world-class mooching skills).

I am looking forward to setting off again!

 

What a Way to End

Now that I am back from my South American adventure I have been reflecting on the amazing 12 months of travel chock-full of highs (and a few lows). I’ve had the good fortune of seeing plenty of stunning landscapes, meeting amazing people, and visiting dozens of South American cities but I feel incredibly lucky to have ended this part of the trip in Medellin.

Medellin is hands-down, without a doubt my favorite city in South America.

It has people that are as warm as the Chileans, food as good as Lima, a vibrant cultural scene to rival Buenos Aires, and plenty of sunny days, green spaces, and beautiful mountains all around. What more could you want? Before I arrived I wasn’t necessarily planning to stay so long. I was going to travel around some more, explore the mountains, the desert, and the coast, and then fly home from Cartagena.

But for the first time in my life, I cancelled a flight and booked an AirBnb for the month in Medellin. Mom stuck around too, changing her flight itinerary so she could hang out with me here a few more weeks. We did some exploring, took city tours and visited museums, and did the whole touristy thing.

Then we got into a rhythm of going to Spanish classes for a couple of weeks after hitting up one of our favorite cafes for breakfast in the morning. We even got pretty much adopted by our AirBnb hosts and their friends, who have invited us to take part in everything from watching Copa America games to road trips with them. The paisas are an incredibly warm and welcoming proud group of people.

And they have much to be proud of. It is hard to go a day without some reminder of the terror of the past, much of it still very fresh. I met so many people my age who had very different childhoods than I did. I’ve met people who casually recall the shootouts they witnessed, bodies blown to pieces from bombs in their neighborhoods, or the murders of their friends and family members.

Now, instead of invisible borders they have vibrant neighborhoods; a world-class public transport system rather than the world’s highest murder rate. And although it still has its problems, like any place, it is inspiring to see how much positivity can grow out of such dark spaces. It was a truly beautiful experience to see this city and feel this culture, and it is the cherry on top of what has been one hell of an amazing trip.

Right now, I am home for a few months, visiting family and friends and enjoying the summer. (Although, can the heat and humidity of a Virginia summer ever  truly be“enjoyed?”) But I can’t wait to come back. 

Let’s Try That Again…

Ok, I’ll admit that last blog title might have been a little dramatic (but my feelings towards Cartegena were extreme). Week 1 in Colombia was not great, but with two more weeks left on the tour with the parental units there was nothing to do but brush it off and get back on track/on the horse/on the bike/choose your own cliche. So we packed it up and set off to the next destination.

We were scheduled to spend 3 nights in Salento, but we ended up liking it so much that we cancelled the next leg of our grand tour (sorry, Cali) and ended up staying a week. The main draw of Salento is the Valle de Cocora, which is a freaking marvel. But the town is super cute and colorful, and after the hellfires of the coast the cloudy-with-a-chance-of-drizzle weather that’s the norm there was an extremely welcome change.

In addition to traipsing through the wax palms (Colombia’s national tree, which can grow 150 feet or higher), we visited a thermal hot springs, strolled around charming Filandia, went to an orchid farm, and toured an amazing botanical garden. At one of the many coffee farms in the Quindio region of Colombia, we learned just how much work goes into (and how little margins come out of) producing your morning joe.

Mostly we ate wonderful food at the restaurants in town, tried out tejo (which is a beer-and-gunpowder-fueled game akin to horseshoes or cornhole), and just enjoyed spending time together in such a beautiful location. The owners of Betatown, the hotel where we stayed, were such a warm and welcoming family that we felt completely at home there and were bummed to leave.

But on we went. Our next stop was Popayan, which meant a bus out of Cali. We were told the trip would be 3.5 hours but it took five, mostly because the bus made stops. A lot of stops. Like in the middle of the highway or anywhere at all to pick up anyone who felt like going that direction. The bus included a shotgun rider who played the invaluable role of “hype man” trying to drum up business from those waiting along the road by shouting out our destination. I was surprised at his efficacy because, tbh, the number of times I’ve been standing roadside trying to figure out where I want to go only to have my mind made up by a guy yelling out a bus window is precisely zero.

Popayan is another colonial city, famous for being “the white city,” with UNESCO recognitions both for its gastronomy and its Easter celebrations. The city was beautiful and it has a university, which brought some cultural programming to town. And we did eat some awesome food (the little empanadas with the spicy peanut sauce: delish!) But to be honest it didn’t feel real and it didn’t seem like a whole lot was going on there.

Unless you like to play the lottery or stand in line at the bank, that is. Seriously, on the main square was a cathedral, a Juan Valdez (the Starbucks of Colombia), a tourism office, and at least ten banks. Every day every bank had a line out the door (and sometimes around the block). After you get your money out of the bank, you can take it to SuperGiros (every other shop was a SuperGiros) and send it somewhere else or lose it on the lottery…. strange place.

We rolled out of Popayan heading for our final destination: Medellin. To be continued…

Welcome to Hell… I Mean Cartagena

One year ago, I made my first trip to South America. My parents and I went on a tour around Ecuador and stopped for a few days in Bogota on the way home. I loved it all so much I decided to do it full-time! Since then I have been dying to come back to Colombia and see more of this great country. My parents decided they would meet me here and we would tour around together for awhile. Yay!

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Mom and Dad hit Colombia

The colonial city of Cartagena was at the top of our must-see list, and I was so excited to finally get there. It has a surprisingly small airport for being a city of over 1 million people and a/the major tourist hub of the country. With just seven gates, you deplane right on the tarmac and are through immigration in minutes.

The walled city was absolutely stunning. I felt as if I could meander through the narrow streets that wind through colorful houses and lively small squares forever. I was in love with the architecture, the walls, the history, the sea views, and happy to be back in a place where I really love the local flavors (plantains)! And there are beaches nearby – what more could you want? It felt euphoric… for about five minutes.

Then it felt sweaty. It was hotter than hell and the humidity is super serious. It hits you like a Mack truck, like a ton of bricks, and all those other clichés. If you want to cool off, well the beaches are nothing to get excited about. The town is dirty and noisy, the sidewalks are an actual joke, and boy was I missing Chileans by the end of day one. Here everyone wants to make a buck off you and is constantly hassling you.

I could barely appreciate the beautiful scenery for all the street vendors and hustlers. Some guy had the nerve to follow and harass me FOR BLOCKS, and then tried to charge me for a tour! Granted, he did talk about the history of the city and what I was seeing but I was basically like I didn’t ask/want you to follow me around for an hour so I’m definitely not paying you. It was all just so… exhausting.

After four days of this nonsense, we took a boat out to the Rosario Islands to stay at the Cocoliso resort. Despite them being recommended to me specifically for their beaches, the beaches we saw were nothing special. However, the islands were interesting and we spent a few days snorkeling, canoeing through mangroves, boating, and mostly lounging around in the hammocks. It was a decent way for mom and I to celebrate another trip around the sun for each of us.

To sum it up: I know some people LOVE it, but Cartagena gets my vote for least favorite city in South America. I am glad I went… but even gladder that I left.

Bucket Listing As I Go

The past couple months have been great for checking off items on my bucket list. I sailed to Antarctica, felt the mist of Iguazu falls on my face, and studied Spanish in Buenos Aires. And of course, this whole South American journey started off by going to Machu Picchu back in July last year. For me, and for many others, a visit to Easter Island was on the bucket list and I could not leave Chile without going out to see it. So I hopped a flight and six hours later (it’s waaaay out there) I was in the land of Rapa Nui.

After the previous couple of weeks in rainy, cold southern Chile and Argentina, landing in a tropical paradise was certainly welcome. I much appreciated my window seat so I could watch this beautiful island come into view out of the wide, blue nothing. I was warmly welcomed at my hotel and went for a sushi lunch with the girl that runs the place, and she pointed out my first moai – right there in town! I walked around town that day and had a beer while watching the sun sink into the Pacific behind a line of moai. The perfect day.

Over the next few days I scoped out a couple of the volcanic lava-tube caves that riddle the island, climbed up one of the three main volcanos, saw oodles and oodles of the the famous maoi, and learned a bit about the history and the culture of the island. Such as

  • I had this conception of “the Easter Island head” as if they are all the same – but they are all very different. Each statue represents a very specific individual and the name “moai,” as the statues are called, actually translates to “who’s it for?”
  • In some cases, the statues are more than statues – they are tombstones, with the ashes of the person it represents buried in front.
  • The “hat” they wear is believed to be a representation of their top knot hair style. Rapa Nui men didn’t cut their hair (or their nails), and by the time they were wise old men they had quite the top knot bundle. The long fingernails and tattoos are often represented as well.
  • At the height of their civilation, there were 12 clans. Having so many different groups on a tiny island could only lead to tensions boiling over. It was during this civil war that many statues were toppled – what better way to hurt your enemy than topple the sacred ancestors that represent connection to the gods.
  • Post-civil war they developed the birdman competition to pick the island’s leader. Every year, when the migration of a particular bird rolled in, men would jump off a cliff, swim out to the rock where the birds nested, and race to snatch the first egg. Men, right?
  • Much of the culture and the language of the Rapa Nui have been lost forever. After decades of inter-clan warfare and pillaging by Europeans, particularly Spanish who stole the natives for slaves, the population dropped to just a few hundred. Who knows how much of the island’s story was lost with them.

I ended my trip with a sunrise view at Tongariki, the largest line of standing moai. Even though we hit a free-ranging horse on the way (we’re all ok), it was the perfect end to the perfect getaway and what an incredible way to end my time in Chile (for this year anyway…) Now for Colombia!

What I’ve Been Up To, Part 2

When I left the last piece, I was just heading to Bariloche, Argentina, which marks the northern part of Patagonia and is probably the main tourist jumping off point for exploring the lakes region of Chile and Argentina. This was a major piece I was still lacking in my Chile puzzle. Fortunately a new friend of mine wanted to explore this area of the world as well, so we decided to travel together.

So off I went to Bariloche to rendezvous with my buddy Yvan in what would be my last stop in Argentina… for now. I will have to come back and see Salta, up in the desert, and Puerto Madryn, out on the coast! But Bariloche was an excellent place to end the Argentinian leg of my adventure, because it was a cute little tourist town (where they are obsessed with beer and chocolate) surrounded by beautiful mountains and lakes. Fortunately we had good weather luck before we took a bus outta town and headed to Chile.

We first arrived in Osorno, which as a city is not particularly charming but is a real Chileans-live-here-this-is-not-a-tourist-town place. It had its casinos, sopaipillas, and everything else you can expect in Chile. But we used it as a jumping off point to rent a car…which was dicey for a bit, because we forgot to factor in that it was Semana Santa and that a lot of Chileans were on vacation, so the first couple places we checked had nothing. But we managed to find a car at a decent price (things have a way of working out) and set off for Chiloe.

Chiloe is this island of myths and legends in the south of Chile. Many of these stories seem to involve cunning figures that try to lure members of the opposite sex into the woods, such as the Trauco. Seems a little strange to me, but to each their own. At this time of year especially, fog and wood smoke from the chimenys creates such an eerie environment that it is easy to imagine there are mysterious dwarves, goblins, and nymphs hiding around the corner.

We didn’t run into any nymphs, nor did we run into much of the wildlife that Chiloe is known for – no foxes, no tiny deer, no blue whales (although it was off season for them). But we enjoyed walking through the lush greenery, exploring the cities of Castro and Ancud (strong preference for Ancud) where we based ourselves, and hunting down some of the UNESCO World Hertiage wooden churches. The churches are beautiful, and represent a blending of local building methods and religious beliefs brought over from Spain.

Yvan and I also went to Puerto Varas, which is very similar to Bariloche, and as I would find out, also quite similar to Pucon a little further north. Cute German-influenced village where you can drink artisenal beer while taking in the view of a stunning lake with a tall volcano in the background (well, Bariloche didn’t have the volcano right there). If I had to pick a fave, it would be Puerto Varas. The town has everything you need, feels a little less Disneyland than Bariloche, and heading up the Osorno Volcano was stunning.

It was time for Yvan and I to part ways, and I cried. Seriously, I did. It was so nice to have a travel buddy for awhile, and finding someone you can actually travel well with can be difficult. After my dramatic scene at the Osorno bus station, where a Chilean imparted the wise words “don’t cry from sadness when he leaves, cry from happiness when you see him again,” I was off to Valdiva.

Here I got to visit a friend that I met in Antarctica (I LOVE being able to say that), and I stayed at his place out in Niebla, a good base to explore the surrounding area. In the mornings, I got to see how it earned its name (niebla means fog in Spanish). Valdivia is a university town with great beer, good coffee, and a cool vibe. The surrounding area is full of Valdivian Forest, which made for some lovely day hikes, and Spanish forts. As a history lover, it is crazy to me that the Spanish were already over here, on the other side of the world, working their colonial “magic” before the English even managed to get their asses over to the part of the world I call home.

But my time in Chile was coming to an end, as I wanted to head up to Colombia soon. But I couldn’t leave before I went to Easter Island…

What I’ve Been Up To…

Wow, I can’t believe it has been a month since I have sat down and written anything. Brazil and Buenos Aires seem so long ago, possibly another lifetime. Since then, I’ve cut a route through the middle of Argentina, returned to Chile, met up with friends there, and crossed off another major bucket list item.

After Brazil, I ran briefly through Buenos Aires to make a connection to Rosario, the third largest city in Argentina and the birthplace of one of the most famous Argentinians: Che Guevara. I walked by the house he was born in, strolled along the river, and visted the nation’s flag monument. The monument commemorates the location where the blue and white flag of Argentina that we all know today was first flown in a revolutionary action in 1812. But the weather was so hot, humid, and frankly disgusting (with these giant cicada/dragonfly things flying into you at every turn) that I quickly decided to move on to my next stop: Cordoba.

Cordoba is the second largest city in Argentina, center of the Spanish colonial activity in Argentina for a long time, and home to the oldest university in the country. The Jesuit Block (#UNESCOWorldHeritage) dates back four hundred years, and the cathedral here is perhaps one of the most gorgeous I have ever seen. It’s also surrounded by glorious countryside, with lots of little mountain towns around where Argentinians and Germans (lots of them pass through or settle here, not just Nazis) come to enjoy the Alpine-like beauty and some nature walks. I decided to head out to the pedestrian city La Cumbrecita for a couple of days to enjoy some fresh air and nature.

After days of hiking and drinking beer, I went back to Cordoba for a bit. Far from being old and out-dated, the univeristy population means it’s a vibrant, libral center of activity with clean parks, great restaurants (I swear I had the best hummus of my life here), and cheap bars. Unfortunately, I also had the flu while I was here so although I stayed here about a week, three days were spent not moving from my bed. Even so, I still really liked this city.

But cheap bars don’t hold a candle to wine country, and in South America Mendoza Argentina is the Mecca for us wineos. Naturally, I couldn’t leave Argentina without going there. It’s a beautiful mid-sized city, lined with trees, in the shadow of the Andes, and surrounded by a dizzying number of vineyards (or maybe it’s all the wine that makes you dizzy?). In addition to walking around the flat, leafy town, I took a wine tour.

Although there are bike tours and the wine bus (which someday I will return and try) I decided I wanted to splurge and do the whole thing up right, where a van picks you up at the hotel, takes you out for tours and tastings at multiple vineyards, serves you a gourmet lunch, and drops you off with a full tummy and that dizzy head I was talking about earlier. I was with a good group, we had a fabulous time, and I would love to do it again sometime.

But for the forseeable future, I continue my travels. After a couple of weeks traveling alone, my next stop was to head down to Bariloche to meet up with a friend I met through Spanish class in Buenos Aires. I’ll save my re-entry into Chile for another post. Happy travels!