Chau, Uruguay.

My time in Uruguay is coming to a close. I am very, very sad about it. This place not only has been my home for the last four months, it has been a place where I have learned so much about people and about Latin America. I know a lot of the time it seems like Uruguay gets pushed to the side, that they have a hard time competing with popular international destinations like England or France. But Uruguay is a wonderful place. As I reflect on my time here, there are a few things that I want to share that have made my time here in South America amazing.

Some of my favorite places in South America have been:Buenos Aires, Argentina

This is an amazing city. It is right next to Uruguay and has about 12 million people living in the city. It is a very important city in South America because of its size and location. Argentina is famous for its Asado

and for its particular dance, the Tango, whose origins are unkown, but it is known that they have stemmed from Argentinian ports.Tango is an extremely difficult dance to learn, but a beautiful once to watch.

Those are just some of my favorite things about Argentina. One of my favorite things that I cannot post is just the attitude of the people. They are some of the nicest and friendliest people I have met. They are different from the Uruguayans I know because they tend to make a lot more noise and use more handmotions when they talk, but they are just a fun group to be around. They are a very proud people with a rich history and a lot to offer to the world, besides only other countries in South America.

Lo Valdes, Chile
Lo Valdes is not even a major city, or even town, in Chile. It s about two hours outside the capital, Santiago, and we had to take a small, rickety van to drive up the mountains. Once you reach the top, the view is spectacular.From where we stayed, this is what we saw. Because it is not winter here, but fall, we did not get to see the Andes covered in snow. It still was spectacular, they were so big and the rocks were many different colors, like green, purple, blue, and teal. My friend and I hiked to the top of a volcano, I believe it was called Volcan San José. From afar, this is what it looks like.
This is what it looks like from the top, when we finally got there after hiking for 9 miles.
It was a beautiful view.

I do not believe that I have talked about it before, but one of the things that makes Uruguay very unique is a drink called maté. It is very common for everyone to walk around with their maté gourd filled with yerba, which are very similar to ground up tea leaves. They put the yerba in the maté and add hot water from a thermos that they carry around with them. Some people put their maté and yerba in a materia so that is it easier to carry. The tea has a very special, distinct taste. It's sort of bitter, not at all sweet. It is something that every Uruguayan either has tried or drinks on a regular basis.
This picture is a perfect example of how mate works. The maté is filled with yerba and steepin in the hot water. The silver tube is the straw that you drink the tea from. People in Uruguay drink it all the time, no matter what time of the day or night. I learned this the hard way, when I drank some of it late at night and I couldn't sleep for several hours afterward. When I first came to Uruguay, I thought it was an especially strange custom, because everyone walks around with a gourd and a thermos of hot water, drinking something that tasted very different and that had a lot of caffine. But after spending many months here, I have realized that it is something very special and important to the people that live here. I have also noticed that I have not seen as much maté in other countries that I have visited, such as Chile and Argentina.

These have been some of my favorite things in South America. I hope you've enjoyed the blog and I will see you back in the states soon!

So...Hi.

So I know that I have not blogged for about a million years, but it honestly has been a whirlwind month. From the second that I got back from Chile I have been going non-stop. I had about two weeks from the end of that trip until we peaced out to Brazil. So, I am sorry that I have not been able to extrapolate every single solitary detail of my adventures in Chile. Then, I must expound about Brazil. Frankly, there are only a few things that I can say about Brazil, but I will explain when I get to that part in my story.

P.s. I am listening to “Love and Memories” by O.A.R. I feel cool as I blog about my travels.

Anyway. Chile. I feel like I have mixed feelings about it, but I do not think that I have fully experienced Chile as it was meant to be experienced. But I don’t think I fully described where we were and all that entailed, and all that commenced. So after about 7 hours on a bus from Mendoza, Argentina to Santiago, Chile, where we were borderline interrogated at the border. They were some of the most intense border patrol, we had to get out with our luggage and put it through a conveyor belt and answer questions about if we had honey and fruit and nonsense in our bag, to which we all said no, and then we got back into the bus and ended up in Santiago. I didn’t really know how I felt about Santiago, because it was hot and there wasn’t a lot around us, and I didn’t know anyone and we didn’t know where the van to take us to Lo Valdez was going to pick us up. We took taxis to the cross streets and it ended up being this plaza type thing, and we were terribly concerned that we were not going to find this van, because they told us that they had a specific pick up time for the lodge, and we didn’t want to miss it, but we had no idea what we were doing. We walked around the plaza, and asked everyone around us what the deal was and nobody had any of what we were talking about, which freaked us out and we were starting to run over Plan B (which we didn’t have) and we walked around the plaza, looking for a green van, and no one had seen a green van, so we called the company from a random phone/internet place, where I spoke in Spanish for 15 minutes to a woman who could no understand me, nor could I understand her Spanish. The lady, unfortunately, was about as helpful as a foot in that situation, so I walked back to where were dropped up, where Hermano spotted, at long last, the van we had been looking and waiting for for two hours. With all of our bags and nonsense strapped to the top of this rickety old van, we headed up the Andes. We ended up spending about two hours in the van, one our to San José de Itaipu, and then the other one to Lo Valdes. We all breathed a sigh of relief when we reached the lodge, but then we lost it once we saw the view around us. Lo Valdes was, literally, a house in the middle of the mountains. No matter what part of the lodge you were at, there were mountains all around you. We were at about 7 thousand feet, but the mountains were still higher than we were. The whole time we were there it was clear as a bell, with nothing but blue, blue sky and a brilliant sun shining on us. It was cool at night and warm during the day. The lodge itself was terribly simple, it was built in 1932 and is just a simple wooden lodge, with a dining room, a patio, and upstairs there were a few rooms with bunk beds and a sink, and a communal bathroom. Not a gross hostel type bathroom, but simple, clean toilet and showers. There was no wi-fi, no international telephone, no cable, and an electricity curfew. As I describe it I realize it sounds awful and primitive, but I like to use the word simple, or quaint. Because it was not done in a sleazy or gross way, but it was just simply the way it was. Very minimalist. But wonderful at the same time because it reminded me that we don’t need all of that stuff to enjoy ourselves or have a good time, and it simply made me just look around at the immense beauty that surrounded me.
You can imagine the shock that I experienced when I realized that the current renter that ran the place while we stayed there was a middle-aged British man named Andy. It was probably one of the weirdest and coolest surprises I have experienced in my life.

I feel like the utter awesomeness of Andy deserves its own paragraph in this blog. He, in all actuality, deserves his own blog entry, but I feel like at this point it is too late for him to have that. But still. Andy is, hands down, one of the coolest men I have ever met in my life. I do not know his old story, obviously, because he is a British man, and they do not expound gratuitously on their personal life until you know them very well. We did find out, however, that (ps. I am writing this on a bus, on my laptop, and I feel like this is what I am destined to do for the rest of my life. Write about my travel experiences and revel in the fact that my life is awesome) he was born in Uganda, lived in Kenya for some time, then moved back to England. He somehow ended up in Chile, that part we did not find out. But he is from the Oxford area, and the moved to Chile, married a Chilean, and has an adorable 5 year-old English-Chilean daughter, named Isadora. It is very funny because she understands English but does not speak it. She only speaks Spanish. There would not really be a need for her to speak English, because her mom does not know English, nor does anyone else in Chile. Anyway, Andy has traveled all over the world. I do not know why, but he has. All he wears are those awesome hiking pants and fleece pullovers without a shirt underneath it, and with worn hiking boots. The minute the sun goes down he straps on a forehead flashlight and wears it around until he goes to bed. He spends obscene amounts of time outside, where he hikes up mountains and repels off of glaciers and all sorts of nonsense. He is very reserved, but very direct person when he sees fit, and that I think initially put a lot of people off towards him, but he’s actually a terribly cool guy. Example number 1. The second day that we were there, we realized that the price that we initially thought we were paying had doubled. We all started to panic, and we didn’t know if we could afford to stay as long as we thought, and then we would have to go back into Santiago, but where would we stay? What would we do? We had no idea. I do not remember how Andy was notified of this problem, but he was, and he figured out a way for us to all stay the originally number of days that we had planned. It was so nice of him. He could have just as easily said no, that the fees were set and we couldn’t do anything about it, but he made it work for us so that we got to stay and experience the Andes. Anytime he talked you thought that either Daniel Craig or Colin Firth was around, because they have the same Oxfordian accent that is awesome. With that, however, was the snarky, dry British humor. Example number 2. When The Lackey and I were hiking up the volcano (that story will come later) and were nearly about to die, Andy walked by and says “If a seven year old boy can do this, you can” (there was a 7 year old boy with us on the trek who scaled mountains better than a goat. Will expound on that later as well). Which promptly filled me with rage.

There will be another installation soon.

Felices Pascuas!

As I am sure you all know, Easter is coming up very, very soon. Not only is it coming for you and your families, Uruguay is getting ready to celebrate it as well. However, in Uruguay, the celebrations start very early, in February.

In Uruguay, there are many Catholics that live here. Some of them that live here begin their Easter celebration on February 17, called Ash Wednesday. On Ash Wednesday, Lent begins. Lent is a time where Catholics decide to sacrifice something that they regularly have. It can be anything, from a favorite food or a t.v. show. Whatever it is that the person decides to give up has to be given up until Easter Sunday. The week before Easter Sunday in Uruguay, however, is called Semana Santa, or Holy Week. Also called Tourism Week, it is the week before Easter where a lot of people don't have to work and they have the opportunity to spend time with their families and do things like hiking, camping, and vacationing in different parts of Uruguay. If families don't go out, there are many festivals and celebrations within Uruguay during Semana Santa. It is the week that leads up to Easter, and so it is a week where Catholics celebrate the last week of the life of Jesus before he was crucified. They celebrate by reenacting specific events that happened in the last week of Jesus' life. Only during this week are there festivals in the streets where people carry large wooden crosses. There are alters and religious decorations throughout the city for this entire week.

On Thursday, the Last Supper is reenacted, and then on Friday, it is followed by Viernes Santo. Viernes Santo is a very serious day because it is celebrating the day when Jesus was crucified. The Saturday after Viernes Santo is called Sábado de Gloria, the day between when Jesus was crucified and when he was resurrected, and that day is filled with anticipation for the celebration that is to follow the next day. What we call Easter Sunday in the United States is called Domingo de Resurrección. The day that Jesus rose from the dead is celebrated with feasting, singing, and dancing. On Domingo de Resurrección, Lent is over, so whatever somebody went without for a few days, they can have it again.

The food that Uruguayans typically eat on Pascua is called Pascualina.

It is made by filled a thin, flaky crust full of spinach and eggs, as the picture shows. It is typically only eaten during Easter. My favorite food that they have during Semana Santa is a candy filled egg that you can see in almost every grocery store in Uruguay.

I Have the t.v. at the Hostel. Win.

Which is funny, because I normally don't watch a lot of tv. But I am watching some news channel with an English accent. It weird because the tv usually has football on it, but now it doesn't, because I control what happens. It was really funny last night because a Bug's Life was on tv, but it was dubbed over in Spanish. So that was really funny. I didn't watch it because the guy with the remote changed it to football. Or something in English. Anyway, I was too tired to really care because I spent all day rafting in Rio Mendoza.

And let me tell you, it was legitimately fantastic.
Fan.tas.tic.

We had to get up at the crack of dawn to catch a 9 o'clock shuttle out to the river, which took about an hour. We met some very cool British guys on the bus with very cool names, like Nicos and Liam. They talked in their brilliant accents, obviously, and one of the guys did a Texan accent, and that probably was a highlight of my life. He did it very well too, it was surprising. I don't know why, but it made me laugh a lot. Then we finally arrived at the lake and I probably have not seen a more beautiful lake in all of my years. It looked almost fake because of the color blue it was. I would upload a picture, but I cannot find my uploader in the bohemeth of a backpack that I took with me, but let me tell you it is simply beautiful. There were all sorts of craggy mountains around it and it was wonderful. After we stopped ogling at the lake we were directly ordered to strap on all sorts of gear, including wetsuits, water shoes, water jackets, life jackets, and helmets. We had quite the get-up. So then us and about 15 other Americans (epic win, we were with an agg group from South Carolina; did I ever take in their Southern drawl.) we hustled onto another bus, where we drove up the river for about a million miles. After we got a saftey tutorial about how not to die in the river, and then we all hopped in, and were off.

It was a slight out of body experience. I don't really think I can explain it. Other than I knew that I was grabbing life its huesos and sucking the marrow out of it. As we paddled along the rapids, I experienced such an extreme sense of satisfaction and adventure that I wish I had all the time. It was me against the swirly, murky river, with hands of ice that slapped against my body. It was exhilirating, especially when I sat in the very front. Taking the rapids dead on was brilliant. It was dangerous and thrilling and challenging and fantastic all rolled into one thing. It was like Che Guevara and Pocahontas were coursing through my veins at the same time. And every time I wasn't battling the waves I would look up and be surrounded by blue, blue south-hemespheric sky, only to be broken by the brown, and tan crags of the mountains on its side. It was seriously one of the greatest moments of my life.

K. that's all for now. Enjoy.

Spring Break is Upon Us.

I am currently sitting in a hostel in Mendoza, Argentina. And I have to say that I basically adore my life right now.

The super athletic running chick that I live with and adore told me that I am writing the story of my life, and no one else is. Only me. And I have decided that at this present moment I am writing I have probably not been happier. And I don't really know why. I am sitting on a tiny chair at a tiny table, listening to a blend of English and American accents, with football on the tv and Latin music coming from the speakers. All I have with my is a backpack filled with books and socks, and, literally, a sense of adventure. I can go and explore and do and be and all sorts of things here. We are currently having a down day, where we are trying to plan out our days, and we are thinking about rafting and repelling and just being wonderful. I was going to attempt to describe why I love life so much, but it's basically impossible. I just feel like my soul has woken up and that this is what I want to do forever. Which I know is what every college student says, but I really feel like it's true. I could do this for the rest of my life and not regret it. I know I am channelling Che and Alexander McCandless to the umpteeth degree, but I could just go around contemplating the sorrow and injustice in the world and being one with the world for a while. Actually, not for a while. I probably would never get tired of it.

We actually got here about an hour ago. We took the most legitimate way to arrive in Mendoza, on a first class bus. And let me tell you, I don't know why we don't do this in the United States. First off, it was only about 77 US dollars, which is brilliant. We climb on the bus after handing over our backpacks and see that there are only about 24 seats on the top floor. We sat in our huge, plush seats and quickly discovered that they recline all the way back. Into a bed. Yea, that's right. A bed. There was also a step that you could fold up to rest your legs. You got a blanket, pillow, and, best of all, free candy and wi-fi. WI-FI. So awesome. I was free texting everyone and freaking out and it was lovely. They gave us dinner, put on Catch Me If You Can, and took our coffee orders for breakfast the next morning. Going on the bus was the most excellent decisions of my life. I got a ton of sleep, and woke up ready to face the awesomeness that is Mendoza.

I seriously love this. I.seriously.love.this.so.freaking.much.

Blogtastic.

I am so sorry that I have not been diligent with my blogs. I don't really know why I haven't other than there hasn't been too much going on other than homework, homework, and more homework. And my ever-growing obsession with Ernesto 'Che' Guevara.

So there hasn't really been much too report. Other than I am absolutely falling in love with this country. And I might possibly die from grief when I leave. It is a very, very serious possibility. I don't know what it is but as of late I am loving EVERYTHING about this place. Maybe not the trash on the streets, and the fact that they lack my hair products, but that is a very, very small price to pay for everything that is wonderful about this place. Everyone is SO nice. Seriously. It's not a fake nice either. People genuinely care about you. Every single waiter or waitress I have had has been so lovely and kind and friendly. That includes cashiers and strangers and dogs. Everything. For example, in a HUGE twist of fate, I stopped in a bookstore where a horrific moment ensued due to Eric Bana. However, when Eric Bana left, the shopkeeper and I talked for a while after I bought my book on Che (don't judge me) and she was SO nice. She was my age, if not a tiny bit older, and was just very, very friendly. The second time I went in there with the doctor and the lackey and sans Eric Bana, aka mortification central, the shopkeeper, whose name I still do not know, offered us coffee and tea. I mean, come on! So nice! The lackey almost had a conniption because they had Twinings breakfast tea. That is how great this place is. And of course at Bacacay, all of the waiters and waitresses know us there. Ha. It's because we are there once a week, if not more; ordering all of those delicious cortados and coffee infused brownies with ice cream. It is my favorite cafe in all of Montevideo. And they are just lovely.

Montevideo also has a very relaxed atmosphere. Everyone is just very relaxed; things will get done when they get done, no worry really fusses or worries. And it's nice to be people around that all the time. It's seriously a refreshing atmosphere, where people just let things be. It is turning me into a hippie and it is terrifying me. I am just mellow and whatever about everything, instead of getting worked up about every little thing. I mean, I still joke around and whatever, but I don't get seriously really angry, and I just love everyone. Good heavens, I am turning into a hippie. This is so scary. I bought a headband the other day. Once you look at this picture, you will be taken back to the good old days.

Yea. Terrifying. Freaking handmade hippie headband from Ciudad Vieja.

This epic realization of me being a hippie has also made me realize another thing. Another thing which is that I am too eclectic for words. Seriously. So. Flipping. Eclectic. I am a walking contradiction, an enigma of sorts. In every aspect of my life. I have a growing affinity for Che Guevara and the Latin American reasoning behind Marxism, yet I have a very strong, almost unhealthy addiction to supporting that which is known as capitalism, through my terribly strong draw to beautiful headbands and manicures. I am an alarming realist regarding national security and defense, and yet India holds the most tender spot in my heart. I have been to five of the seven continents, and yet I am getting so excited to go to Lubbock and visit my friend Alayna. Like, way excited. Probably too excited for Lubbock, but I want to go. And go I shall. I can rock out to Lady Antebellum as hard as I can rock out to a Portuguese song I found on a cd for three bucks as hard I can to Michael Jackson. I drink maté with the equal affinity that I drink bubble tea. I could switch topics of discussion from art to pop culture to firearms to broadway musicals without thinking much about it. I want a pet owl, octopus, or tarsier. Seriously. It's flipping weird. I am myself and I still think it's weird. I am a flipping weirdo. I don't know what to do about it. So far attempting to embrace my affinity for life is what I am trying to do. And there have been a few times where I have utterly relished the fact that I am all of these things. I hope as time passes it will just be a natural thing, to love all my eclectic nature completely.

I am rather surprised as to how much I adore Latin America. At first I was paranoid that I would come here and I would simply abhor it, and then begin to tolerate it. But it is the quite opposite. I love every single aspect of it. It has embraced me and taught me, by living here I can begin to untangle the knots of history and truly understand how Uruguay came to be. Argentina and I hit it off very well too. I could definitely see myself working there in the future. Doing what, I have no clue. But I could see myself there, talking in loud Spanish with exaggerated hand movements about futbol or the newest legislation regarding import taxes, being fabulous and cosmopolitan, and then peacing out to Montevideo for vacation, hopefully in La Paloma or Cabo Polonio, where I exercise another facet of my personality by living with some hippies for a few weeks and all we talk about is love.

Oh, South Ameican, you will be the ruin of me. You have unleashed a travel bug of epic proportions. Folks back home, you best be buying yourself a backpack. I will need a travel buddy. I cannot venture to Bolivia alone. Nor can I go to Lebanon alone either. Now come to think about it, I can't go to Japan, because I speak no Japanese. Hm. Guess I need someone to go with me...

K. I need sleep.
Final thought: Motorcycle Diaries rules. Gael García Bernal is my favorite human as of this moment right.....now.

Feelings.

I am writing this blog because I am trying to find a creative outlet for my feelings at this point.

So there is someone in the house that makes me feel like crap. Not because of what this person does, or how this person treats me. It's just comparison 2010 with him. He wants to go to a prestigious law school. 4.0s up the yang. Law firms. Congress internships.

And he's talking to me. None of which apply to me. There is no way I can compare to him. And I feel like the pressure he puts on himself is the same pressure I need to be putting on myself, even though we are not in the same caliber at all. I am so happy that he is who he is, but after that I just sit back and look at my life and realize how much I have limited myself because of the decisions I have made. And it breaks my heart. I just want to give up and quit. And just not even care about making a difference. I don't really know why I feel like I have to be all of these things to make a difference. I don't know why I think that having an extremely high GPA will hinder me from making a difference and doing whatever it is that I am supposed to do on earth. I hate how everything banks on my GPA. It seems as though nobody cares about the kind of person I am. I feel like now I am just starting to understand the pressure that I am under for life. I wish I had this hindsight 2 years ago. Things would be a lot different.

I guess I just feel bad about myself all of the time because of certain expectations. I don't know if I set them or other people did, but they are set. And I am trying so hard to achieve them. Yet from my past mistakes it seems like I don't have any hope. I am going to be reduced to less than what is my destiny. And that breaks my heart. I'm just a failure. Why try? I don't even know what I want to do with my life. So why should I even bother? Why not just drop out and go to Cabo Polonio for forever? Why not just go home to a CC and live the easy life? Why do I do this? Am I really cut out for this?

This is just me ranting. I know it will pass. But I am just not feeling the greatest at present.

That is all.