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[ardeneliz]

All of the Lights: Finding Serenity at the Chiang Mai Lantern Festival

When we took off on our round-the-world adventure in March of 2015, we didn’t have much of a plan (a fact that remains true). Our response to anyone who asked about our itinerary was “Well, we’re starting Argentina, and we know we want to be in Chiang Mai for the lantern festival in the fall…” At that point in the explanation, our voices would trail off. Arriving in Thailand for these celebrations was the ONLY item on our must-see list that came with a deadline.

So when we wrapped up our journey through the Americas in mid-September, it was time to do some (any) planning for our Southeast Asian route. The schedule for the lantern festival is based on the Lunar Calendar, and in 2015 that meant celebrations were on the later side - the same week as Thanksgiving AND my 29th birthday! So after a month of bouncing around Bali and being generally unimpressed (but that’s a story for another day), we flew to Thailand and settled in Chiang Mai in early November.

Since the lantern festivals were so high on our bucket list, you might assume that we landed in Thailand with a plan for how to enjoy them - where to go, how to get lanterns, when to light them - but you would be mistaken. In fact, shortly after our arrival in Chiang Mai we discovered that the free massive lantern release had been cancelled (for reasons that aren’t entirely clear). To top that off, the pay-more-than-you-should-in-Thailand lantern release for tourists was sold out AND had already happened. As I searched the internet far and wide for what this meant for our celebrations, I came up pretty empty handed. We were bummed.

But in the week prior to the festival, we asked around, found a couple useful blog posts, and saw enough chatter online to make me feel like our “plans” weren’t ruined. The general consensus was “head to the river and you can’t miss it.” With that plan and a government issued schedule, we felt ready to experience this event we’d heard so much about.

Things really came together (as they tend to do, I must remind myself), when some new friends reached out about enjoying the festivities together. We’d met this couple at a hipster foodie event (the city is full of San Francisco nostalgics), and it didn’t take long to realize we were kindred food-and-wine-loving spirits.

There are technically two separate lantern festivals that are observed at the same time in Chiang Mai. Loy (or “Loi”) Krathong is held in honor of the water goddess and celebrated by placing woven lanterns (“krathongs”) into the river to float away bad luck and misfortune. Yi Peng, which is most commonly celebrated in Northern Thailand (the former Lanna Kingdom), involves launching large paper lanterns (“khom loys”) into the night sky.

Our new friends were staying in a guesthouse that was teaching its residents how to make their own krathongs, so we met up for a crafting session. Made out of intricately folded banana leaves, and topped with flowers and a candle (and sometimes other offerings), krathongs are beautiful pieces of art (especially when made by experienced, talented Thai people, and not novice Americans). I managed to keep my type-A personality somewhat under control and only forced everyone to wait an extra 10 minutes while I pursued crafting perfection.

An hour later, after an epic journey over the river (at least twice) and through what felt like the entire province of Chiang Mai, we arrived at the Nawarat Bridge to be greeted by a huge crowd setting off heaps of floating lanterns into the night sky. 

It was a beautiful spectacle to behold, but also an intense journey (hordes of people and un-monitored launching of fireworks are not my favorite) to the Ping Riverside where we could launch our krathongs into the water.

We stepped precariously onto a bamboo platform with dozens of others (mostly foreigners) to pass off (for a tip) our krathong to a man wading waist-deep. He pushed off our creations into the barely moving water (where were the rushing waters to take away any bad luck?!), and we turned around to shove our way through the crowds pushing towards the river’s edge.  I must admit - our participation in this ritual didn’t feel very meaningful. Had we purchased the (gorgeous, elaborate, and insanely impressive) krathongs from one of the MANY stands lining the stairs to the river (instead of creating our own), I imagine it would have felt even more transactional.

Upon completing our primary mission of the evening, we decided to escape the suffocating crowds (not that I was feeling agoraphobic or anything) in search of food. We made it to an open-air food park near Chiang Mai’s famous Night Market, miraculously swooped a table, and feasted on international food from hamburgers to gyoza, washing it all down with sangria and Thai beers.

This - at a picnic table, in a glorified food court - is where the night turned magical for me. We sat in this spot for what could have been hours; the skies all around us filled with glowing lanterns. Everywhere you looked, thousands of man-made fireflies danced in perfectly clear skies with only the company of a full moon.

[Click here if you can’t see the video above]

In the center of the lawn, a few people set off lanterns, some of which got caught in a tree or fought with gravity before drifting off into the night sky. And whenever a struggling lantern managed to take flight, it was met with cheers and applause from fellow revelers. This togetherness - even if it meant tons of people on the streets - was what made the night so meaningful, in particular because of the tragic events in Paris and Beirut only days earlier.

As I wrote in a Facebook post the next day…

To be a part of a celebration that consumes an entire city and unites attendees from around the world in a beautiful display of light... it's something I didn't realize my heart needed to combat the darkness created by recent global tragedies.

When we finally pulled ourselves from away from the mesmerizing lights, it was 11pm. Our plan was to head home, but when we happened upon a small, quiet temple with monks helping people release their lanterns, we couldn’t help but be drawn in. The crowd was sparse (hooray!), so we bought a couple paper lanterns.

Once ours was lit, we placed it on the ground to let the hot air build up inside (per the valuable suggestion of a monk), before lifting it above our heads to float gently out of our fingertips up, up, and away. 

This all happened just before midnight on the eve of my birthday, and it was a spectacular end to my 28th year.

The last nine months of our travels have been invigorating and exhausting, rewarding and challenging, surprising in ways both good and bad. But in that moment, everything was as it should be. I was hand-in-hand with the person who encouraged me to take a crazy leap with him and explore the world, and we watched together as our lantern faded into the distance, excited for the adventures to come.

Who needs plans, anyways?

[ardeneliz]

Giants of the Sea: My first encounter with manta rays

“I can go in right now?” I confirm for the second time with our snorkeling guide.

As his mouth begins to form the form the word “yes,” I leap from the boat, mask on, fins in hand.

We’ve spent the last hour on a boat from Bali, bound for the nearby island of Nusa Penida to a dive site called Manta Point. I may not be able to dive in Indonesia (ear infections are rude), but that wasn’t going to keep me from swimming with my favorite creature.

I am not sure exactly where my love for manta rays began, but here is what I can recall:

When I was in seventh grade, my class took a trip to the Florida Keys. On one of our excursions, we walked out on a large bridge to scan the deep channel below for silhouettes of sharks, eagle rays, and mantas. We spotted only a large eagle ray; no mantas to be found. I left wanting more...

Three years later, in a high school biology course, we had to choose an animal for a class project. By this point, my affection for the giant ray was well developed, so I eagerly selected it as my subject for the assignment (we had to create a children’s book) and set about meticulously illustrating my beloved mantas.

Senior year of college I had a phone interview for a job at a small investment bank and was asked “If you could be any animal, what would you be?” Without hesitation, I replied “Manta Ray!” When pushed to answer “Why?” I made up a response that seemed professionally appropriate and said something about “the Giants of the Sea” (to the muted amusement, I later learned, of my interviewers). But in all seriousness, is there a better way to ensure you can be amongst your most loved creatures than to be one of them?

So with the anticipation that had built up in me for nearly two decades, we circle the lagoon of Manta Point. When the boat crew starts yelling “MANTA” and pointing off in the distance, I am vibrating with excitement. Rushing from one side of the boat to the other, I see their giant outlines gliding under the surface of the water. Being this close is incredible, but I need to bond with them in their ocean home.

We head closer to shore where the water is a bit more calm. This is when our snorkel guide (Sandi) says that anyone who is ready can jump in now. With a couple of Mantas dancing near our boat, but no indication that they are likely  to stick around, I cannot wait. Missing out is simply not an option.

Abandoning everyone on the boat (our guide, the Danish snorkelers suffering from seasickness, my own boyfriend…) I throw my wetsuit clad body into the freezing water and don’t even notice the cold. I turn back to the boat to see Sandi with a surprised but amused look on his face, receive my “No chase manta!” instructions while pulling on my fins, and start swimming (at a non-chase pace, of course) in the direction where we’d last spotted the rays.

At first, I can’t find them, and fear sets in. “I wasn’t fast enough!” “Did I go the wrong way?” I look back towards the boat for help, and the crew directs me (still the only one in the water) to keep swimming. I proceed a few more meters, scanning the waters all around me, and wait. Then, a silhouette appears deep below me. Despite the distance and cloudy seas, I know it’s a manta ray. In the water. With me!!!

The next moments (seconds? minutes? who knows?) are a bit of a blur. Floating alone in the water, I find myself exactly where the rays are gathering - as soon as one flies away a pair comes in behind me. It’s a surreal experience to be surrounded by these creatures - swimming towards me, next to me, underneath me, only a few feet away. I catch myself holding my breath during these moments; I am a little bit in shock.  

Despite years of suspense building up to my first manta encounter, it managed to exceed my expectations. These creatures are majestic, mesmerizing, adorable, and absolutely perfect. Exactly as I imagined they would be. Twelve-year-old Arden knew what she was doing when she fell in love with them, and I’m glad I was finally able to give her what she’d been waiting for.

And as for those investment banker bros…you wish you could be one of these Giants of the Sea!

A message to those who have been following my blog: many apologies for going quiet for so long! Since my last post about Machu Picchu, Miles and I have traveled to Lima, Peru; Santa Marta and Cartagena, Colombia; Roatan and Utila, Honduras; back to the US; Singapore; Bali; and are now living in Chiang Mai, Thailand. I hope to be posting more in the near future, but you can expect some jumping around between destinations old and new. Thanks for your continued interest in our adventures and happy reading! 

[ardeneliz]

Stunning views, a baby llama, and some Incan ruins too - our trip to Machu Picchu

On the Fourth of July, while everyone back in the US of A was cooking out and brandishing sparklers, Miles and I were on a train heading to Aguas Calientes, Peru - the nearest town to our destination of Machu Picchu. We woke up early on Saturday in the pouring rain, took a cab through the wet and winding roads of Cusco, and arrived safely at the Poroy Station where we caught the 3+ hour Vistadome train operated by PeruRail.

Since July and August are high season (because of the “dry” season), the train was completely full. But it was a pleasant, comfortable ride to the end of the line with enough snacks and views to keep us occupied. We made it to Aguas Calientes (a small town unreachable by car), checked into our simple hotel, and did some final planning for our first day in Machu Picchu.

With tickets to hike Huayna Picchu (the famous peak featured in most photos of Machu Picchu that only 400 people can climb per day), we took a bus the next morning up the winding road to the entrance of Machu Picchu.

Having checked the weather forecast earlier in the week and finding a disappointing 70-80% chance of rain, I was worried that clouds and precipitation would put a damper on our once-in-a-lifetime visit to this world wonder. But, we got lucky. Other than some pesky fog (Karl, is that you?) that taunted us before our big hike, we enjoyed relatively good weather during our trip after the morning fog lifted.

The trek to the top of Huayna Picchu was on many people’s “must do” list for our visit, but also came with hefty warning levels about its difficulty. A short hike of under an hour each way, the trail is a series of steep switchbacks with large stone steps, ropes, and railings to help you make it to the top. It’s rough. So of course, we decided to make it even harder by taking the longer way back past the Moon Temple.

This optional trail involves going down the back of the mountain even lower than the start of the hike and then coming ALLLLL the way back up to meet the original trail at its halfway point. A couple friends who did this hike a few years ago said they “almost died” (but it was still worth it), so at least we had a good idea of what we were getting ourselves into with this nearly four-hour round trip.

We began the hike with trepidation and excitement, ready to implement our “get behind some slow people” hiking plan. We moved steadily up the mountain at an average pace (we got passed by some people and did some passing of our own), and made it to the top not completely exhausted.

We were greeted by some spectacular views of the ruins below that were well worth the trek.

And then we decided to keep going.

At the trailhead you are told you have 4 hours after signing in to make it back. I am not entirely sure what happens if you don’t return, but I wasn’t interested in finding that out. So after a quick stop at the top, we began the Moon Temple loop.

We went down some stairs.

Then some more stairs.

Then a ladder.

Then some more stairs.

I think we walked more stairs in 4-hours than I ever have totaled in a month’s time. This was going to hurt tomorrow.

We finally arrived at the Moon Temple where stone structures were built into a cave for unknown reasons (“unknown reasons” is big thing in Machu Picchu).

For me, the Moon Temple wasn’t anything spectacular, but I didn’t expect it to be. I like being outside, I love nature, and I’m often chasing the next great overlook, but old structures - as impressive as they may be for the time they were built - don’t do a lot for me. Fortunately, there was a lot of good nature (I love me some bromeliads!) and epic scenery around every turn.

While I may not have been overly impressed by the ruins of Machu Picchu, the setting - in the mountains about the Urubamba River - certainly took my breath away.

And the long hike, which wrapped up with an hour of stairs back up the peak, was equally worth it for the tranquility afforded by this trail less traveled. In the most visited tourist destination of South America during the busiest time of year, we were able to have a couple hours almost entirely to ourselves, running into fewer than 10 people along our detour.

Three and half hours later, we were exhausted and ready to call it a day with plans to return to the ruins the following morning for more exploring...

Remember when I mentioned all those stairs that would come back to haunt us?

I wasn’t wrong. Walking on flat ground was ok, a slight incline was tolerable, but stairs - especially going down - were BRUTAL. But we rallied for another day in the Incan site to take in more picturesque scenes of this awesome landscape.

Between moans and groans, we ambled out to the Incan Bridge, and then followed the crowds of other visitors to see the other sights.

I must admit that I longed for our time alone in the rainforest behind Huayna Picchu as we followed the slow traffic in a clockwise direction around those impressively carved (but still not awe-inspiring to me) old rocks.

While we made our way around the complex, I stalked the llamas (the baby one in particular, of course) with our camera’s zoom lens, distracting myself with the nature I could find scattered amongst the stones.

We left midday to catch our train back to Cusco, tired, sore, and appreciative for the opportunity to experience this place firsthand. While we may never know for certain why the Incans chose to build an estate here, I for one am certainly glad they did.

[ardeneliz]

Oh, The Places We’ve Been: Reflections on Santiago, Cusco, and Mendoza

It’s been awhile since my last blog post. And while this is my first apology for not keeping up with the (almost) weekly updates, I’m certain it won’t be my last. Life, travel, and work (yes, we really are working on the road) gets in the way sometimes.

In the last 3.5 weeks, we have been in 3 countries; moved 5 times; traveled on 3 planes, 2 trains, and 5 buses (plus a few cabs here and there). We’ve had our first last-minute change in travel plans due to my first stomach bug of our trip (it happens), wandered around the ruins of Machu Picchu, and climbed the grueling steps up, around, down, and back up Huayna Picchu mountain (this is the dome peak you see in most photos of Machu Picchu). We’ve drank local wines, Chilean & Peruvian Pisco Sours (don’t get them started on who made pisco first!), and have now landed mouth first in the much anticipated land of ceviche - Lima, Peru. 

In between all these adventures and meals, I’ve also been courting a new client and received my first request to write about travel for an online magazine focused on my favorite beverage! (I guess all of this is to say: we’ve got a lot to cover in this post, so grab a glass of wine and tuck in.)

Moving so frequently - from Mendoza to Santiago to Cusco to Machu Picchu to Cusco to Lima - has given me an opportunity to compare these different places side-by-side. How they make me feel, what they offer, and what - if anything - might draw me back. I’ve enjoyed each location for a different reason and realized there are three ways (for now) that I can categorize a place I’ve been:

A Place to Live

A Place to Visit

A Place to Return to

Santiago, Chile: A Place to Live

When we arrived in Santiago, both Miles and I were struck by how “American” the city felt. Cleaner than the cities and towns of Argentina, and with better infrastructure, we found ourselves back in a world of brands and amenities with which we were familiar. I hadn’t really missed M&Ms, Dannon Yogurt, or Dove Body Wash while we were living in Argentina, and seeing it again on the shelves again was a little off-putting. The presence of these familiar products was a reminder that their absence in Argentina wasn’t due to an inability to import to South America, but an avoidance by these companies to export to a country with a troubled economy.

I categorize Santiago as a place to live, because of how easy life was during our week there. We took the clean, efficient, frequent (although crowded) subway system that puts San Francisco’s BART to shame (not that this is hard to do). Every weekday morning we’d head to our coworking space downtown after one stop at Starbucks for cappuccinos and another to pick-up one of those green juices I’d become addicted to while living the Bay Area.

Restaurants were plentiful and pleasing to the tongue and while the quality and variety of international cuisine wasn’t quite to SF-standards, it was the best I’ve experienced in South America so far. I’m still thinking about these Korean chicken wings...though maybe that’s just because I love chicken wings and was pleasantly surprised when our order of EXTRA PICANTE lived up (for once) to this request.

Being in Santiago was a nice change of pace. A weeklong stop where we’d planned to spend most of our time working, this livable city made it easy for me to adjust quickly and get stuff done. I wasn’t overwhelmed by being in yet another new place, and I fell back into my San Francisco patterns fairly naturally. It would be a great place to live for longer - a location I’d consider later in life for a 1-2 year period - or a destination I’d welcome for frequent business trips.

But while this modern city was a great place for us to regroup before Peru, it’s not a place I’d go out of my way to visit, though there are other spots in Chile I’d like to see. For me, travel (and this trip specifically) is about experiencing new things that we can’t while we’re home, so familiarity and ease of life don’t draw me to a destination (even though it’s always nice to know what we’re doing.)

Cusco, Peru: A Place to Visit

After Santiago, we flew to Cusco, Peru and settled into another Airbnb that boasted a great location in town, a fast internet connection, and occasional lukewarm water. Having been unimpressed with other South American tourist towns like Puerto Iguazu, I’d kept my expectations low for Cusco, despite rave reviews from friends. Well, I’m here to admit they were right - the former capital of the Incan empire is adorable (that's what the Incans were going for, right?).

As usual, Miles and I had to get work done during our 6-day stay, so we didn’t have as much time to explore as I would have liked. The highlight of our visit was a free walking tour of Cusco that took us from the city center, around Plaza de Armas, up to San Cristobal’s Church and then in a bus past the Sacsayhuamán ruins (we wished we’d been able to see more of these!) to enjoy the great views from the White Christ overlooking the city.

Our guide fit A LOT into our 3-hour tour: a stop in a restaurant to try alpaca steak (not bad, not great), a demonstration at a local textile and jewelry maker, and a visit with a local musician who builds his own instruments. Our jaunt ended at a hostel bar with a great view where we learned how to make Pisco Sours and were easily convinced to order our own. All-in-all, it was very informative and something I’d recommend for future Cusco visitors.

Like the town of Colonia, Uruguay the historic city of Cusco is a UNESCO world heritage site. Its old buildings, narrow cobblestone streets, and citizens dressed in traditional garb give the city an intoxicating charm (or maybe that’s the Pisco talking). 

So it’s no surprise that this brings in crowds of tourists which are quickly followed by Peruvian locals shoving wool sweaters, llama paintings, and massage flyers into the faces of foreign visitors. While I enjoyed wandering the streets of town - particularly the hills of the San Blas neighborhood - this level of tourism and salesmanship wears on me quickly. If only these peddlers knew I’d be much more likely to buy something if they just left me alone...

Despite recoiling from the touristy side of Cusco, I would still categorize this city as a place to visit - a destination in and of itself, worth more attention than a 24-48 hour stopover en route to Machu Picchu can provide. But, in my definition, being a “place to visit” means it is not somewhere I would need to go back to; I feel fortunate that we were able to see and experience Cusco, but I don’t feel compelled to return.

(And with a lack of hot water - or sometimes any running water at all - it doesn’t meet my high-maintenance requirements for a place to live.)

Mendoza, Argentina: A Place to Return to

I’ve already rambled about my love for Mendoza in a previous post - how I’d become attached to the city, plugged into a community, and worried about how hard it would be to leave. The remainder of our time in Argentine wine country proved to be as memorable as the beginning. 

We dined on a salted pear & burrata salad and brontosaurus-sized steak at 1884 - a restaurant created by Francis Mallmann. We had discovered this chef while watching a Netflix documentary, and decided we had to enjoy a meal in one of his restaurants while in Argentina.

We enjoyed a day of wine-tasting with Diego (a friend of our Melbourne Coffee Co friends) who took us to some of the best Mendoza wineries, introducing me to another side to Malbec. Until our tastings at Achaval Ferrer and Vina Cobos, my experience with Argentine wines both in the States was limited to getting decent wines at a low price. And while I appreciate this wallet-friendly role that Malbecs have played in my life, it was nice to be blown away by how fantastic (and completely out of my price range) these wines can be.

Also, I’m either out of wine-tasting practice or the pours are much more serious south of the Equator. I was practically napping on our lunch table when we arrived at the third vineyard for a 3-course meal paired with their wines. And to think I initially thought Diego was crazy for *only* scheduling three stops.

{Vina Cobos- Before}

{After}

Unfortunately, my stomach bug made me miss Angelo’s Caribbean feast that I was so looking forward to, but Miles went and had a fantastic time (also, he came home smelling like delicious arepas, so I feel like I can also vouch for the food). Luckily, I’ve decided Mendoza is a “place to return to,” so getting in a meal at Al Pasillo on a future visit isn’t entirely out of the question.

For me, a place to return to lies somewhere between a place to live (though Mendoza isn’t a bad spot to put down roots) and a place to visit (because just one time in Mendoza wasn’t enough for me). I feel the same way about a Mendoza as I do about the beach town my family vacationed in growing up. It’s a place I formed a special bond with, where I have a list of locations (mostly food and drink related, let’s be honest) to re-visit on every trip but also new spots to explore. It’s a place where I feel comfortable but not bored, where I can be connected and disconnected at the same time, and where I can balance my desire for relaxation with my craving for unique experiences. 

It’s the best of both worlds - so just try and keep me from going back!

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[ardeneliz]

What I’ve been waiting for: Finding community in Mendoza

We arrived in Mendoza at 8:15am reclined at 160 degrees and groggy from seemingly decent sleep. It had been another 20-hour bus ride (excuse me... 19.5 hours) from San Carlos de Bariloche, and we lined up with the other half-asleep passengers to collect our bags. After receiving a message from our Airbnb host and happily discovering we could check-in early, we rolled our way over the bumpy, uneven sidewalks towards what would be home for the next 10 days.

Mendoza wasn’t originally on our list. Or - I guess it was “originally” on the list during our initial trip planning - but once we were in Buenos Aires solidifying our Argentina plans (and after realizing Mendoza was 14 hours away), it didn’t make the cut. Living in San Francisco for many years, we had our fair share of wine country experiences, so making such a long detour didn’t make sense to us.

And yet, here we are. 

Finding ourselves in Patagonia with a need to get to Santiago, Chile for a flight to Peru in late June, we determined that a stop over in Mendoza was our best option. There were a handful of buses running to Mendoza from Bariloche, and the capital of Chile is only a 6-hour ride over the Andes including a stop at the border. So, we booked our bus tickets and an Airbnb and set about researching Mendoza.

Given my love of wine, you may be surprised to learn that the first google search I did for this trip was “Best coffee in Mendoza.” Despite being a big town for chocolate, Bariloche hadn’t offered much in the way of coffee, so we’d embraced the Yerba Mate way of life during out time there. And while I love me some Mate, I was craving the dark brown elixir I’d been spoiled on in San Francisco.

So once we dropped off our bags in our apartment, we made our way to one of the top spots on my list - a relatively new coffee shop called Melbourne Coffee Co. Even the walk over was refreshing - a mile through the relatively quiet city, winding through the main plaza at the city center and breathing in the brisk fall air. A bit warmer than Bariloche and certainly less rainy (hallelujah!!!), Mendoza isn’t enjoying summer temps, but experiencing true autumn after so many years in San Francisco offers its own comfort.

We were greeted with a hearty “hello” when we entered Melbourne (did we stand out that much?) and responded with an automatic “hola.” But it didn’t take long to figure out that the English greeting was because the shop was owned by native English-speakers Pete & Brent - two Australians who had opened the shop for business only two months ago.  

We chatted together about how we’d discovered their cafe, what it was like to start a business in Argentina (difficult, loooonnng, frustrating), and our reasons for coming to Mendoza. Before long, a retired couple from the Midwest walked in and beelined to their favorite spot. They’d stumbled upon Melbourne per the recommendation of their wine tour driver (Diego, you’ll hear more about him later) and had come nearly every morning since to get Pete’s recommendations for how to spend their day. We, of course, jumped at the opportunity to eavesdrop on these suggestions and learn about what they’d already experienced - Miles took copious notes.

After a couple rounds of espresso, we were hungry for lunch and asked Pete & Brent where we should eat. Heading out himself to pick up some fresh bread, Pete offered to show us a few spots, and we got the introductory tour to a city I’d longed for at every step of our journey. We got tips on safety (don’t have your phone out on the street), advice on where we should eat (and as important - where we should not!), and recommendations on where we should buy wine - so basically, all the essentials! We ran into friends of Pete's along the way and when we said our goodbyes for the day were offered his and Brent’s contact information should we run into any trouble (music to our mothers’ ears, I am sure).

This was it. This was what I had expected to happen at most locations we’d ended up. This is what I’d been waiting for. To meet someone who knows the city, to get recommendations to the best places to eat and visit regardless of what the tourist books say, to feel plugged into a community in a way I hadn’t experienced since San Francisco. I immediately felt connected in Mendoza. For once, I didn’t need to spend hours perusing the internet for the best activities, hoping I could identify and rule out the tourist traps. The only resources and connections I needed were in the Australian-owned coffee shop in the middle of Argentina wine country.

Since meeting Pete & Brent, we’ve had some of the best meals of our trip. From exceptional salads at BRÖD (I’ve been missing quality veggies!) to the discovery of kale (my long-last friend) and a phenomenal burger at Maria Antonieta, every meal seems to try and outdo the last. I was reunited with seafood (my true love) at Azafran thanks to a delightful Salmon Tartar and unusual Octopus Empanadas paired with sommelier-selected glasses of wine, and we enjoyed the best Italian food of our time in Argentina at Francesco Barbera (which I inhaled before we could take a photo, and then couldn’t move for hours). 

Aside from a few highlights, I haven’t been particularly impressed by food in Argentina as a whole, but Mendoza has blown me away. It’s not surprising that a town of refined palates for wine would produce such exceptional dishes, but this foodie still appreciates it!  

Our upcoming days in Mendoza will feature more Pete & Brent enabled activities. Tomorrow we go wine tasting with Diego - the private driver mentioned earlier who comes highly recommended for his humor and knowledge of the region. He also happens to charge much less than the overpriced group tours which we would have found ourselves on were it not for wandering into Melbourne Coffee Co. On Thursday night we’re excited to join Brent for a closed-door Caribbean feast at their friend Angelo’s house. Chef Angelo wouldn’t normally cook dinner for only two people (it’s low season here), so we were lucky when Brent mentioned he wanted to join! There will be five courses, three wines, a champagne, coffee & dessert lasting at least three hours. Here’s hoping we make it to our 10:30am bus on Friday...

While I haven’t been overly eager to leave any of our previous homes, I've always been ready for the next step in our journey. But I am certain that leaving Mendoza will be the hardest transition for me so far. I feel connected to this place, as though (for the first time) I actually know what I’m doing. As much as I’ve valued familiar faces before, it’s going to be particularly difficult to leave this community...but new adventures await!

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[ardeneliz]

There’s Something about Mountains and Water: A day trip to Mount Tronador

I could have stared at Mount Tronador for hours. An extinct volcano rising 1000 meters above its neighbors, the mountain mesmerized me as I watched the snow-laden gusts of wind dance around the white-capped peaks. I felt a tugging at my heart like that from our trip to Iguazu, (though not nearly as strong) and was reminded again of how impressive nature can be.

When making our list of things to do in Bariloche, Miles had stumbled across a promising review of a day tour to Mt. Tronador. With a break in the disappointing weather that plagued our time in Northern Patagonia, we booked our trip for the day after a long hike around Parque Llao Llao. Motivated by an adventure, we woke up early on Sunday morning (Ok, I woke up early; Miles got out of bed at his habitually practical time), and waited for the tour van to pick us up.

The day would consist of a 9-hour tour into Nahuel Huapi National Park, stopping to take in some gorgeous Andean views and ending at the base of Mount Tronador to observe the rare black glacier, before heading back to Bariloche.

Also, the tour was entirely in Spanish.

I could tell you that we chose a Spanish tour because our language skills have vastly improved since our arrival in Argentina. But then I’d be lying. I could also tell you that ending up on this tour was completely accidental. But my type-A personality would never let that happen. The truth is that the popular Argentine tourist destination of Bariloche does not draw in a lot of English speakers, especially during the low season. It is possible to get a tour of Tronador in English, but you’ll be paying A LOT for it. We know enough Spanish to get by and follow directions (and, it turns out, even pick up on the occasional fun fact), so going this more affordable route seemed like the smart choice for us.

Our guide Ignacio (“Nacho”) was enthusiastic and patient with us, quickly recognizing our mediocre Spanish skills as we stared at him with confused smiles on our faces. He was nice enough to repeat important details in English like when we should return to the van or to reassure us that a joke he’d made (about the volcano erupting during our visit) was indeed a joke.

It took an hour or so to get to the entry of Nahuel Huapi National Park where were reminded of the different ticket prices for Argentines and foreigners (“extranjeros”). A park representative boarded the van, and I promptly requested tickets for two strangers (“extraños”). We got our tickets without any trouble, probably because only extranjeros would sound so silly.

The next couple hours were spent on winding one-way roads that are open in one direction in the morning and the opposite in the afternoon. We made a few stops along our route to take in the multi-hued lakes against a background of forested and rocky peaks. It was clearly Autumn in the Southern Hemisphere.

There wasn’t much to see in terms of flora and fauna this time of year except for plentiful trout in the crystal clear waters of the river and the occasional cow that would appear randomly from the forest, clearly on some grand adventure (there are worse things in life than being a free-roaming cow in Argentina).  

We stopped for an unimpressive, but not terribly overpriced tourist lunch at the Pampa Linda cafeteria. I must admit that the empanadas were pretty tasty, though the views of Mount Tronador could have made eating cardboard enjoyable. 

After a leisurely lunch and a stroll around the property amongst chickens and bovines, we headed to our final stop - the black glacier.

The black glacier is named for its unusual black (I would call it brown) color that develops as rocks, gravel, and ice fall from the glacier above. While considered the main attraction for many on this trip, the black glacier wasn’t what drew me to the Tronador tour. I didn’t expect to see a rare and wondrous site; I expected to see a dirty glacier, and from my point of view, that’s exactly what I saw - a glacier in need of a bath. I was not particularly taken by this site, though I acknowledge the striations in the ice are pretty cool. 

I chose instead to focused my attention upwards, stalking the big brother glacier, and hoping for a piece of ice to break off during our 45-minute stay.

Alas, that did not happen, but Mount Tronador - with snow swirling and it’s sparkly clean glacier - still fascinated me. I haven’t been that close to such a large mountain since my family trip to the Tetons 16 years ago, and it was moving to stand next to something so immense. Add to that my newfound love of water-based phenomena, and by the end of the trip, I’d become a Tronador fan.

We had piled back into the van and begun our long trip home when our guide spotted a lenticular cloud over the highest of the mountain’s three peaks. I thought I’d seen it developing when we were heading back from the glacier, and was pleasantly surprised to see it take shape on our ride back.

Having never seen this type of cloud formation in person, I kept my eyes on it until we turned a corner and Mount Tronador was out of site. 

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Adventures in Northern Patagonia: a Day of Hiking in Parque Llao Llao

Since arriving in Bariloche on May 13, the weather has made it more challenging to enjoy the outdoors than we had hoped. Switching between on-and-off rain and clear but aggressively windy days, it was hard to plan a day of hiking (40℉ & 30mph gusts, no thanks) or sightseeing (I think there’s a pretty mountain behind those clouds?). Of course, with a stellar view from our apartment that keeps on giving, it’s hard to complain too much about feeling cooped up inside. But finally, this past weekend's weather cooperated. And while many of you back home were enjoying barbecuing weather, Miles and I were exploring the area around Bariloche, thankful for 42 degrees and light breezes. Saturday was spent on a long hike in Parque Llao Llao near the world-renowned (and totally stunning) Llao Llao Resort. We took the bus from the center of town out to its final stop and then walked along the hotel property and up the street to the park’s trails.

The park, I was told by several blogs, had many trails which could be connected into a loop of 3-4 hours, but no one seemed to know how long this loop was (a situation we’ve run into with a lot of distance-related measurement in Argentina). But since one blog described the 10-15 kilometers (roughly 6-9 miles) as a “mellow picnic excursion,” we decided it was a safe bet for us. So after arming ourselves with mediocre directions downloaded to my iphone and photos of the well-worn park maps, we began our walk.

Starting at the first trailhead, we made our way to the Bosque Arrayanes - a forest of unique Arrayanes trees with a copper-colored bark that glows in the low-angle sunlight characteristic of this time of year. I hadn’t expected much from these famous Patagonian trees, but I must admit that they’re unusual coloration and twisted, weaving trunks were impressive to behold.

The rest of the hike was mostly about the views - incredible panoramas of lakes and the Andes, giant mountains majestically set against the mostly blue sky, and peeks of peaks (see what I did there) between branches and over the tops of trees.

For the most part, this was indeed a “picnic stroll” along occasionally-marked trails. We made three wrong turns, but figured out our mistakes before going too far out of our way. The only moment where I kind of lost it (Miles may recall my emotions differently) was after we walked up the only steep hill of the day. Finding ourselves on a trail that stopped being a trail, I booted up google maps for our exact location and became immediately concerned about whether we’d be done before dark. At this point, we were 3 hours into our hike, and from the looks of things, we were only a little over halfway done.

I had flashbacks to a trip with my family to Jenny Lake in the Tetons. 

After hiking around one side, we had planned to take the ferry back across the lake, but when we got to the docks in the late afternoon we discovered we’d missed the last boat of the day and had to hike in the setting sun/dusk back to the start of the trail. I was 12 at the time and thought of it as a great adventure, singing loudly to scare off nearby bears that had attacked someone at the lake a week prior (true story). I was a kid, so I took it all in stride, but this wasn’t something I wanted to repeat as a more high-strung adult.

But, my freak-out was for naught. We found the right trail and trudged ahead, climbing a few more small hills (which were arguably medium-sized for people as out of shape as we are), and came to the end of the trail much more quickly than my maps had led me to believe. We walked back along the road to the hotel and enjoyed a very late lunch in Cafe Patagonia. I wolfed down a lamb burger, fries, and a local beer, and enjoyed the Andean views.

Then it was home via the bus and early(ish) to bed. We had a full day in store for us on Sunday with a tour booked to see the extinct volcano of Mt. Tronador and its glaciers (blog post coming soon!), so we wanted to rest up! 

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From Buenos Aires to Bariloche: A 20-hour bus ride across Argentina

Before arriving in Argentina we made sure to soak up the advice of people who knew the country well - those who’d studied abroad, had been on extended family trips, or even grown up here. And while everyone offered their personal recommendations and unique must-dos, there were three things that came up on everyone’s list: steak, wine, and luxury buses.  

It will come as no surprise to people who know us that we quickly experienced the first two (and continue to do so) since they involve our favorite activities: eating and drinking. But the opportunity to travel by bus did not arise until last week when we moved ourselves and two suitcases of belongings from Buenos Aires to Bariloche in Northern Patagonia

Our initial expectations were high - seats that reclined into full beds; bus attendants serving food, beverages, and maybe even champagne; wireless internet and outlets to charge our various devices. Fortunately, I’d read up on the experiences and tips of others and knew not to count on all of these amenities. We prepared for our journey with fully charged devices, comfortable layers, lots of snacks, and three bottles of water (which was hardly enough).

Getting to the bus station was no problem, after seven weeks in Buenos Aires we knew how to get a taxi and it was easy to explain where we were going. The terminal was a long, narrow building and eventually we found the right set of monitors to watch for details on when and where we’d board our bus. Unlike an airport, there wasn’t any security to deal with, no IDs to show (unless you’re doing a border crossing), and you’re only required to arrive 20 minutes before your scheduled departure. Of course, there’s also no information desk, no one announcing the buses that are boarding, or last-minute calls for missing passengers. You need to pay attention.

We handed over our luggage, tipped the guy stowing the bags, and boarded our Via Bariloche bus with minimal fanfare. We’d opted for Cama Ejecutivo - larger chairs that reclined 160-degrees (not the 180 I was hoping for, to be honest) and offered a bit more space - on the second floor, front row. Since we’d be traveling through new parts of Argentina, we wanted to see it all!

Hour 1: We left the Retiro station around 2pm and spent the next hour or so making our way out of Buenos Aires. The bus casually weaved in and out of traffic, splitting lanes as is the habit of drivers here, and made another pick-up at the city’s edge.

Hour 2: By 3:30pm it was clear we were in the suburbs, the road and sky opened up and the supermarkets and supply stores grew much larger than their city equivalents we’d frequented. For the most part, only small subtleties made it clear we weren’t driving along some highway in the US: signs along the road exclaiming “No horse and carriage” and “Notify the police of loose animals” definitely gave me a chuckle. But considering horses were staked on either side of the highway to mow the grass, such information seemed necessary.

Hour 3: At this point, we’d left the highway for more country roads and we’d continue on these for the rest of our adventure. Yup, that’s 17 hours of predominantly two lane roads…so glad I wasn’t driving. Looking out at the farmland, I was reminded of the rural drive we made every summer through the Carolina countryside in route to the beach, except the fruit and veggie stands of my youth were replaced by huts selling carne and queso.

Hour 4: Watching the world go by was our primary activity for the first 4 hours of our journey. At 6pm or so, we finally met our mysterious bus attendant who brought us a snack (crackers and jam, an alfajor cookie, and coffee) with a side of relief that we didn’t need to ration the snacks and water we’d brought for 16 more hours. Surprisingly, the bus was playing an English movie with Spanish subtitles, so we watched and learned a few new words while enjoying the setting sun.

Hour 5: Miles had downloaded the latest episode of Game of Thrones, and we used some of our valuable electricity (turns out there weren’t plugs or wifi) to watch this uplifting (kidding) show. Night had fallen by this point, so there wasn’t much else to see out the windows.

Hour 6: I pulled out the Sudoku booklet I’d picked up for 75 cents at the bus station and split my attention between that and Liam Neeson’s Taken 3 in Spanish. Unsurprisingly, it was easy enough to follow the plot despite having never seen the trilogy.

Hour 7: Dinnertime! While an odd assortment of food - a “salad” of rice, corn, peas and cold-cut turkey and main course of baked (?) chicken with tomato sauce, bell peppers, and onions - it satiated my hunger and surpassed most airplane food I’ve endured. But I lost all hope of free champagne.

Hour 8-10: More Sudoku accompanied by “Wait wait don’t tell me” podcasts I’d downloaded in advance (shout out to NPR, Paula Poundstone, and my iphone for these hours!). This occupied me until it was time to (attempt) sleep.

Hour 11-14(?): While a million times more comfortable than any bus or airplane I’ve ever been on, it took me awhile (unclear how long) to find an ideal position. I’m a side sleeper, so the slight incline of the seat wasn’t ideal. But it was nice and quiet for most of the night and the warm blanket they provided kept me cozy.

Hour 15-19: Needless to say, after my initially restless hours, I was shocked to wake up to such a startling landscape and discover it was already 9am. Miles woke up around this time too (I may or may not have fallen on him in route to the bathroom…oops) and we were soon greeted by “breakfast” which was the same crackers with jam and a cookie we’d had the night before.

Hour 20: Scheduled to arrive in Bariloche after 10am, we gathered our things together and opened up the curtains to take in the (bug-splattered) views. 

The bus made it’s final stop just outside of town and we easily grabbed a taxi and headed to our new home - an apartment which has views of the town and landscape that are just as wonderful as we had hoped.

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The Value of Familiar Faces

Four days before Miles and I left for Bariloche, we were sitting in Cafe Lattente enjoying delicious cappuccinos, warm medialunas, and good vibes in our favorite Buenos Aires coffee shop. We were regulars there, with baristas who knew our order and patiently braced themselves for our Spanish “speaking.” At this point in our stay, the cafe had become a familiar place with friendly faces; it was one of the few spots in BA that I would happily venture to alone on a quest for balcony snacks.

But on this day, like every other, the “conversation” with the staff ended once drinks and treats were exchanged for pesos. You could argue that our Spanish is good enough to get by (for ordering food, following directions, getting through airport security), but when it comes to banter, sarcasm, and more involved discussions, English is the only language for us. A reality that limits our ability to make deeper connections with people, to form friendships, to create bonds in place of transactions.

Which is why, on this particular Saturday afternoon, it was so unusual to hear Miles greet (in English) someone coming into the cafe. With my back to door, I wondered who we could possibly know in Buenos Aires... who from the states was here that I wasn’t aware of? I was pleasantly surprised to discover not a random encounter with old friends, but a run-in with new ones who, like us, were making BA their temporary home.

We’d met this couple from Vancouver through a group of BAExpats who gather for coffee each week somewhere the city. A mishmash of ages, lifestyles, interests, and homelands this collection of people proved an excellent resource for Buenos Aires tips and a great opportunity to interact with people IN ENGLISH who all shared a passion for travel. While we weren’t able to attend every meetup during our stay, these gatherings - and those that spun out of them - proved a stabilizing force for me during our time in BA.

After catching up with J&L (the Vancouver couple) for a bit, they informed us about an art gallery walk and shared one of their maps, making special note of the “free champagne” stops on the route (see why we got along?). Since every other recommendation we’d been given by J&L had been spot on, we figured it was smart to jump on the gallery train. We ran into the couple again at a few of the champagne-laden stops, and I remarked to Miles that we really should exchange email addresses to stay in touch. Of course, this was after we’d bumped into them for the last time, so I resolved myself to stalking them online later.

The next day, Miles and I were playing tourist in Buenos Aires, taking in some of the historic sites and fiddling again with our new camera. We were walking down the center of 9 de Julio - the largest street in a city of over 3 million people - when we spotted J&L in the crosswalk.

What are the chances?

This time, I was quick to make sure we exchanged emails this time, and after getting some advice about where our afternoon should take take us (the European architecture of Avenida del Mayo), we all went on our way.  

When I think about our seven weeks in BA, these chance encounters leap to mind. This may be due to recency or rarity, but the real reason these moments are so memorable cuts to the core of who I am. I have always been driven by connections with other people. I crave interactions with others and get great value from being a part of a community. While I am certainly lucky to have Miles as a travel companion, my desired level of social stimulation requires more than what one person can reasonably give. And although I worry about how well I will adjust to frequently changing countries and cultures, I am most concerned about satisfying my craving for connection, to avoid feeling isolated in the places we temporarily call home.

And that is why randomly running into J&L twice, in two days, in locations 3 miles apart was such a big deal. It was like a gift from the universe sent to assure me that I will meet great people on this journey; that I won’t spend the next year and half feeling like I don’t belong; that there could always be a familiar face around the corner.

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On seeking disconnected connection in Colonia, Uruguay

Last weekend, Miles and I took a trip across the Rio de la Plata to spend a couple days in the Uruguayan town of Colonia del Sacramento - or “Colonia” for short. As evidenced by its name, Colonia was a colony of the Portuguese  founded in 1680, and many of the early buildings and stone structures remain at least partially intact. It is quaint, quiet, and adorable and was a perfect respite from the noise and crowds of Buenos Aires. 

Instead of staying in town, we reserved an Airbnb six miles out in the country. Now, this wasn’t just any Airbnb, it was a honest-to-goodness treehouse, and it was awesome! 

I will admit, getting to our treehouse wasn’t exactly easy. We had plans to rent bicycles, but when the company (“Thrifty Rentals”) found out we were staying outside of the city limits, they refused us bikes. So, if you find yourself in Colonia wanting to rent bikes for rural adventuring, you’ll want to be more.... ambiguous (or try a different company). 

Fortunately, our host had given us directions for taxi drivers (easily found at cab stands along the main street), so we went this route instead. But this also wasn’t straightforward. Because the house is in the countryside, it doesn’t have a street number - its address is a description of the location. This meant I had to say to the driver “Tula Suarez de Cutinella, frente a la cancha de paleta, en un camino al fondo.” (Roughly translated: “On Tula Suarez de Cutinella (the name of the street) across from the paddle-board court at the end of a road." (I just figured out this translation and had only the faintest clue what I was saying then). Now, if you say this too slow or without the proper inflections, you’re going to have some struggs. 

We had a relaxing first evening at the treehouse enjoying some beer (and later some wine...) while watching the sunset and nightfall from our front porch. The air was filled with sounds of dogs, crickets, and cows - a nice change of pace from the honking, engines, and sirens that dominate our ears in BA. We slept well in our lofted bed, and started the morning slowly with fresh baked bread from our hosts and a few hours to read, write, and reflect.

It was nice to be disconnected, with limited cell service and no responsibilities... but not knowing how and when we were going to get back into town for our only day to explore made me a little pretty darn crazy. I found it difficult to relax in a place that practically defined "relaxation” because I didn’t want to miss out (a trend you’ll also see in my last blog), and I felt trapped. 

After becoming a bit overwhelmed with anxiety and trying to distract myself by taking pictures of a swing, it was brought to my attention (by Miles, always the calm & collected one in our relationship) that I could probably just ask our host to call us a cab. Twenty minutes later I worked up the courage to knock on his door (I don’t like inconveniencing people, even if I’m “paying” them), and a cab eventually arrived.

We got back into town around 3pm heading straight for a bistro on the river for wine (of course) and a late lunch. I would highly recommend Churana if you find yourself in Colonia. The plush outdoor seating, river views, and fresh ingredients cannot be beat. We enjoyed what were the best empanadas and salad of our South American escapades (so far) and paired the fresh air & sunshine with a bottle of rosé. 

We only had two meals during our time in Colonia and threw together simple pasta dinners in our treehouse kitchen. The first day we had lunch at El Buen Suspiro- the #1 restaurant in the area according to Trip Advisor - offering a menu of small bites in the heart of Old Town. We walked through a restored historic building with ceilings so low we had to duck and sat in a secluded courtyard to enjoy a selection of meats, cheeses, and accompanying chutneys. It was a serene, slow meal and a great way to kick off a weekend of (attempted) relaxation.

A couple sun-splashed hours of wine river views calmed me down, and we decided to walk through the Old Town and take advantage of golden hour. We’re still figuring out how to use our new camera and master this whole non-iPhone photography thing, so we get a lot of throwaways, but I hear practice makes you...better at things.

Following our photo walk, we positioned ourselves at the river’s edge alongside residents and visitors to take in the evening sunset. It was nice to have such an expansive view where islands and sailboats replaced the apartments and offices of our standard BA skyline.

The next morning we headed back on the ferry and returned to our studio apartment. The sounds, smells, and concrete jungle of the city were in sharp contrast to the solitude of country-living, and yet I found tranquility bloomed out of my familiarity with the chaos. I knew where to catch a cab, I knew how to tell the driver where we were going (hooray for cross-streets and street numbers!), I knew what the next day’s schedule would hold. The fast-paced world that I’d sought a break from, actually offered me something I couldn’t get from our home in the trees - it satiated my need for connectedness and certainty... for having a plan. 

And yet, I still don’t want to spend our next year and half living in large cities around the world. I like the intimacy of smaller towns, their slow vibe, the feeling of a true community. But my desire for order, to be in control, is at odds with the serenity I also crave. 

It’s something I’m still figuring out - how to live a disconnected and connected life at the same time. I’m not sure how good our chances are of finding a perfect balance to these contradictions, but we’ll keep searching and experimenting as we go. Our next stop (as of May 13th) is Bariloche, a picturesque city located in Northern Patagonia. In theory, it gives us what we desire from both worlds - a more relaxed vibe in a smaller city with reliable (we hope) internet, decent public transportation, and easy access to stores and basic necessities. But this is just another experiment, so we will have to wait and see...

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Waterfalling in Love: A Day at Iguazu Falls

It’s been over a week since we flew back from Iguazu and landed at the wrong Buenos Aires airport (more on that story later), and I’m still trying to process my emotions from our day at the falls. Yes... emotions... about a waterfall.

As with any good Miles & Arden adventure, we did a fair amount of research before this quick trip. We read a number of blogs and articles and more than a few mentioned how moving, inspiring, and (most notably) tear-jerking their experience was. And I promptly blew them off, laughed at some even. I mean, it’s a waterfall. A bunch of water. Falling. Maybe this reaction was, at least in part, my attempt at expectation management; I didn’t want to be disappointed when I looked upon this wonder of nature for myself. But seriously, I went to Niagra Falls as a kid, and it doesn’t look like it brought me (or Mama) to tears.

Per usual, Miles and I chose to rent an Airbnb (instead of staying in a hotel) in the Argentinian town of Puerto Iguazu. We arrived Sunday afternoon, relaxed in our jungle-adjacent abode, walked into town for an early dinner (which means 7:30pm in Argentina) and realized everything people say about this small, touristy town was true: there just isn’t much to it. Every other house or building was at least partially unfinished, sidewalks were often unusable, stray dogs were uncomfortably plentiful, and the place just felt unhappy. It’s frustrating to see so little investment in a community that should be able to build it’s economy around a constant flood of foreign visitors, but the infrastructure - and effort - is lacking.

After returning to our home, far enough away from the palpable discontent in the center of town, we went to bed promptly and slept poorly (maybe I was more excited than I am willing to admit). Hoping to be one of the first ones in the park, we awoke early, caught glimpse of a beautiful sunrise over the Brazilian border, and walked to the bus terminal. 

Iguazu Falls straddles the Argentina-Brazil border and can be viewed from parks on both sides, though the majority of the falls “belong” to Argentina. Given that Brazilian visas for US citizens can be a hassle and a bit pricey, we decided to focus our trip in Argentina. We rode on a fairly empty bus, quickly purchased our tickets at the gate and walked directly to the park train that would take us to “The Devil’s Throat” - definitely the highlight of any trip to the falls. 

La Garganta del Diablo is the largest, most impressive of the approximately 275 waterfalls that make up Iguazu. To view the falls, you take a 1200 meter (less than a mile) catwalk over the river to platforms and balconies that are built up over a few small islands. Approaching the falls is a bit surreal. The water in the river below doesn’t appear to be moving that quickly, the roar of the falls seems quieter than it should be, but there’s mist and a drop-off in the distance.

Then (quite suddenly in my opinion), there you are. At the top of the Devil’s Throat, surrounded by waterfalls on all sides, as far as you can see. And you think - THIS CAN'T BE REAL. And right then, you fall in love. With a waterfall. 

Before Iguazu, I can’t recall ever having a fear of missing out on what I was currently experiencing. But that’s exactly what happened. I felt anxious at the time - and even as I’m writing this - about not being able to see it enough, about missing a detail, and not being able to remember it exactly like it was. I put so much effort into taking it all in, trying to connect and savor the experience visually, physically, and emotionally. We were out on the platforms for 20-30 minutes initially (there’s not a ton of space and the mist is pretty aggressive), and as we were leaving, I’m sure I said “just one more look over here” at least 10 times. Then we headed back to the train, and 5 minutes into our walk, I made us turn around and return to the falls. I was having separation anxiety

We continued the day on the upper and lower trails around the falls to discover more astonishingly perfect views at every turn. The weather was ideal - mostly sunny, high 80s, great breeze - and the timing of our visit meant lush greenery and minimal crowds. If there’s one thing that Arden & Miles love, it’s avoiding crowds to tourist destinations the week AFTER a major holiday. Being that it was a Monday helped, but being that it was a week after Easter was even better. There were many times when we couldn’t see anyone ahead of or behind us on the trails, which only made Iguazu easier to love.

Whether it was because of our early arrival, the lack of people, or just our own efficiency, we discovered at 1:30pm that we had already finished everything on our “full-day” itinerary and sat at one of the train stations wondering what we should do. We could head home early, take on another trail that didn’t seem particularly worthwhile, or we could spend another $50 on a boat ride which looked much more like a thrill ride than a genuine opportunity to get closer to my newfound love.  

Or.... I thought out loud... we could go back to The Devil’s Throat. 

So back on the train we went, and (after a brief stop to carefully play in the puddles of butterflies) back onto the catwalk we ventured.

1200 meters later, we were reunited.

I spent another 20 minutes absorbing it all: breathing in the mist, mesmerized by the power of the water, awestruck all over again. It took two attempts before I could successfully say goodbye; we headed back to the train, and I tried hard not to look back. But before we separated, I captured this video to remind myself years from now of the time that I waterfell in love.  

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Same, same, but a little bit different

We choose Buenos Aires as our first international destination because we wanted to start in a city that wasn’t too “foreign.” And while it hasn’t been the easiest transition from a life with many friends and a full social calendar (thanks #Becca) to a life with only one companion (at least for now) and no real direction, BA has proven to be a good choice for where to begin our adventure.

As a developed city with European influences, we’re surrounded by places, people, and patterns that feel familiar: we can see a Starbucks from our window; the subway operates with metro cards; I can book restaurant reservations with an app on my iphone. Things just make sense.

Without much of a plan or any real research into the area, we’re able to wander safely around our neighborhood and find what we need, whether that’s a grocery store, pharmacy, or coffee shop - and for the most part, we can expect the interactions that happen in these places to go much like they would in the US. Do you need a bag for your groceries? Would you like milk in your coffee? Are you ready to order? As long as I can identify one Spanish word in those sentences, I can figure out the rest, which makes communicating in another language a little bit easier.

There are some noticeable differences of course, that even without the language barrier, make it clear we’re in a different place.

The Traffic: As far as I can tell, to be an effective driver in Buenos Aires you need to be aggressive, care about your car less than everyone else, and have a flare for honking. Given the lack of stop signs and only occasional stoplight, four-way stops are a game of chicken, repeated every 100 meters complete with blaring horns.

The Fashion: Guys, it’s like we’re back in the 90s - MC Hammer pants, large hair bows, midriff-baring halter tops (some with mock-turtle necks!), acid-washed jeans, and platform shoes EVERYWHERE. It’s incredible. Today - in REAL LIFE - I saw platform Birkenstocks, a shoe that without the extra height also makes many an appearance on the streets of BA. I told you, it’s like we’ve gone back in time. Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough for a photo, but thanks to a Google search, I bring you...

The Service: At restaurants, servers only comes by your table when you call them over. They rarely ask how your food is, they don’t try and up-sell you on drinks or dessert, and you’re always responsible for refilling your water and wine glasses. It’s slower and takes some getting used to, but I’m finding it quite pleasant. Even sales people at retail stores and kiosks rarely approach you about buying their wares… which is good, because there’s only a 15% chance I’d understand what they were saying.

The Prices: As you’re probably aware, the Argentinian economy has been having some struggs. The country’s currency loses value so quickly that people actually buy expensive cars as an “investment” because they depreciate less quickly than pesos in the bank. As tourists, the exchange rate for dollars falls in our favor, but the obvious effects of a failing currency are troubling. Many coffee shops and restaurants avoid printing prices - instead they use chalkboards where it’s easy to up the prices daily or weekly by a peso... or 5. It makes you wonder; if inflation can be felt so strongly by people who are only passing through, how frustrating and terrifying must it be for the people that live here. 

Early in our stay we met a New Yorker who has been coming to BA for 11 years (this visit will last 6 months, so he clearly loves it here). He remarked that the more you scratch the surface, the weirder this city gets... so it will be interesting to see what the next month will expose.  

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[ardeneliz]

On remembering what good weather feels like

I know I shouldn’t complain about the San Francisco climate that I experienced for the last half a decade. It’s mild year-round, there are 70-degree days in December and February (and basically every other month), and you don’t have to worry about hurricanes, tornadoes, or snow storms (just earthquakes). It sounds like absolute perfection, but for this Southern gal, it always fell short. I like seasons, I like (moderate amounts of) snow, and most of all I love heat and humidity. Yea, I’m a freak… but being in Buenos Aires has really reminded me of what I’ve been missing.

Our studio apartment has a GLORIOUS balcony on the top floor of a six-story building on a (not so quiet) tree-lined street. It gets just the right amount of sun for a quick, afternoon tanning session every single day. { Hello Sun, remember me, Arden’s skin? You might not recognize me, but we used to be such good friends. } We’re able to leave the balcony door and windows open most of the time (bugs aren’t too bad here) and take advantage of the coastal breezes (BA is actually a port city, though we have yet to actually see the water…)  

So far, the weather has been sunny with daytime highs in the upper 70s and low 80s and nighttime lows in the mid-60s. We cap off every evening on the balcony with a glass of Argentinian rosé or white wine and soak in the pleasantly warm nights and picturesque sunsets. This is my happy place. 

And you know what’s really nice about the weather here? It doesn’t get foggy every night; I don’t need to carry a coat with me all of the time in case the weather turns; I’m not grabbing for a fleece as soon as the sun goes down; and I don’t have to wear sweatpants inside my apartment to stay warm!                 

San Francisco, I love you, just not your weather. Which is why I find myself instead in Buenos Aires. It is hot, and I am content. The balcony awaits.

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[ardeneliz]

Not quite tourists, not quite expats

It’s been just over a week since Miles & I kicked off our trip-of-a-lifetime in Buenos Aires, and I have some exciting news to share: we have no idea what we are doing. As it turns out, living in a foreign country where you don’t know anyone and barely speak the language is a new, different, and challenging experience. Nothing is as I expected (and of course it’s not!) Who would have thought?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not assuming that our adventure will be free of snafus and surprises; I know that there are plenty of challenges ahead of us. My discomfort isn’t just about a failed conversation (or 103 of them) in Spanish, a closed restaurant we thought would be open, or a change in the bus schedule. It is about a constant feeling of unbalance, of always being at least a little unprepared, of (gasp!) not being in control. But I’m fairly certain this is exactly what traveling is supposed to be, so I am trying my best to enjoy the journey with all its ups and downs. 

Being not quite tourists and not quite expats, we’ve struggled to find a rhythm (for travel, sightseeing, meeting new friends, eating all the things) that makes sense for a 6-week stint in one place. It’s possible that we have spent too much time in our apartment these first nine days, but, after a jam-packed journey around the US and our first experience “moving” to a new country, maybe that’s allowed. (Also, with the perfect balcony inviting us to enjoy the perfect weather, why would we leave?) With a trip to Iguazu Falls booked for next week and a dinner date with an American couple on the calendar, things are certainly looking up!

Wishing a Happy Easter to everyone back home! 

UPDATE: A friend back home sent me a link to this graph about culture shock trends. I’m pretty sure we’ll be repeating steps 1-5 for a while...

[ardeneliz]

On our US Tour

Seattle>>>Minnesota>>>North Carolina>>>Providence>>>Boston>>>DC

As Miles recently wrote in his own blog, it’s been a long 6 weeks since we left San Francisco. From a winter that hung on more than I was prepared for, to unpacking and repacking in nine different homes, we left the United States quite exhausted and excited for the “normalcy” of a month in the same apartment, even if it was in a foreign country.

But now that we have some distance from the challenges of being “on” all the time and operating on the schedules of others, I realize how INSANELY lucky we are to have the friends & family we do. If you opened your homes to our snoozy selves or helped entertain/care for/feed us along the way, we want to thank you for being so wonderful! Each stop on our US tour was so worth it, and our times with you are already fueling us on our journey.

To quote Hoda Kotb (my tv-personality spirit animal): "I do a lot of things that are okay in my life, but I do one thing very well: I pick good friends.”  Our trip around the country has reminded me of just that.

Here’s a (safe) car selfie we took with my mom (yes, that young lady in the back is my mother...fingers crossed those genes carry through!)

Checkout Miles’s blog here and tune in soon for the next blog post in which I realize my Spanish is muy terrible!

[ardeneliz]

On Frequently Asked {Travel-Related} Questions

Over the past six weeks, Miles and I have been touring the US (more on that in a later post) visiting family & friends around the country. We’ve had lots of conversations with people about where we are going and what we are doing, but we weren’t able to connect with everyone before taking off. So for those of you who just can’t move on with your life without knowing what we’re up to, here are some (not so) quick answers to our most frequently asked questions.

1. Wait, what are you doing?

Miles and I are fortunate to be able to work remotely for clients in the United States from anywhere in the world, so we are taking this opportunity to travel abroad and have adventures! Making San Francisco money while living in well-connected cities that are less expensive than the Bay Area (not a hard accomplishment for any city), we plan to work part-time with plenty of hours left to explore our surroundings, experience the culture, and eat & drink our way through the local cuisine.

2. How did this come about?

On New Years Day 2014, Miles and I went out to brunch at one of our favorite San Francisco spots (If you haven’t been to Zazie yet, check it out!). We talked about our futures, where we wanted to live, and what we should do before “settling down.” There was talk of moving to NYC for a bit and thoughts of getting our own place in SF, but those plans seemed too close to what we’d been doing and would cost us outrageous amounts in rent, leaving us unprepared to become a couple of those “real adults” we keep hearing rumors of. To make the most out of our final pre-family years, we wanted a change of pace, to experience new things, and to have the kind of adventure most people only dream of. When we realized that we could both do our work remotely and sustain a good quality of life in other countries, the planning really began.

3. Well then, what’s your plan?

First off, let’s agree to use the term “planning” loosely. The initial 9 months were spent dreaming, hypothesizing, creating long lists of potential stops and putting pins in these destinations on a large map. 

In June, I left my full-time job at a start-up to begin working for myself, and after that got up to speed, we got more serious about planning… and by “more serious” I mean we solidified our plans as little as possible. We decided fairly early in the process that our first stop would be Argentina, so over Christmas break we booked our one-way tickets to Buenos Aires and an Airbnb in the Palermo Soho neighborhood for our first four weeks.

And that’s it. End of plan. As I write this post from the Panama City airport en route to Argentina (sidenote: airport lounges are awesome) I don’t have much else to tell you.

Everyone who has traveled extensively has recommended we remain flexible, so flexible we are. We expect to take some weekend trips around Buenos Aires in a couple weeks; we expect to spend more time around Argentina; we expect to head to other parts of South America and then Central America; we expect. at that point, to head over to Southeast Asia, after that maybe Europe...but who knows…Our “plan” is to spend 1.5 to 2 years roaming the globe before settling back in the US, but our only real “goal” is to make it at least 6 months. We shall see...

4. How can I get in touch?

We’ll be online regularly for work and play, so the simplest way to get in touch for now is probably via email. That being said, we’re keeping our cell phone numbers with a t-mobile plan that should/maybe/hopefully work internationally (sometimes) which comes with unlimited texting but $0.20/minute calls (so don’t get your panties in a wad if I send you to voicemail...but do call if it’s an emergency). I also have WhatsApp, Skype, Facetime, Facebook Messenger…. you name it. We’ll see what methods of communication we prefer once we’re a few weeks in and keep you posted.

5. And now a question (or more) for you: where should we go, what should we do, when can you visit?

We’ve put together a quick travel survey to collect recommendations for our journey, and we’d love your input! Those of you who have already done so - you’re awesome and obviously our best friends (shh, don’t tell the others). There’s also a couple questions about when and where you’d like to meet up with us during our travels. As I mentioned before, things are pretty open-ended, but we’d love to work our schedules around some international meetups if possible. Check it out: http://www.bit.ly/travelrecs and especially let us know if you have any suggestions for our time in Argentina or know anyone currently living here. 

That’s all for now, I promise to be better about updating the blog since things have (finally) kicked off. If you want to subscribe to the latest posts but can’t figure out how to, just shoot me an email and I’ll get you all set up!

[ardeneliz]

On finding my heart in San Francisco

It’s hard to believe our big adventure - one that could accurately be called “an adventure of a lifetime” - has finally begun! And, to be honest, it’s all a bit surreal. Like anyone with a one-way ticket and an open-ended itinerary, I’m both excited and nervous about what the future holds. But I’m not sure the magnitude of our expedition has hit me yet...

I am sure it will be wonderful. I am sure there will be hard times. I am sure there will be good and bad surprises that may very well change our lives. However, at this moment, the planning and execution of the U.S. leg of our journey have consumed my brain. At some point, I’m sure the elation and/or panic will take-over, but right now I’m riding on the Type-A Express, and I’m not entirely sure when I’ll get off of it.

Less than two weeks ago, Miles and I finished packing up our apartment at 418 Pierce and flew away from our City by the Bay on a classically-foggy morning. Our last two weeks there were a whirlwind of throwing stuff away, selling furniture, saying our goodbyes, throwing stuff away, reminiscing (and drinking) with dear friends, eating at our favorite restaurants, and then throwing more stuff away. By our count, 16 people lived in the apartment over the 6 years it has been occupied and we'd all accumulated A LOT of stuff.

It was a long, seemingly-neverending move (seriously, do plates, spices, and knick-knacks breed like rabbits in that apartment!?) punctuated by moments of nostalgia with a wonderful group of people who all - rightly so - feel some ownership of “Club 418”. It’s the end of an era, the finale of our own series of “Friends,” and it’s a BIG DEAL that a new motley crew of 20-somethings we don’t even know will soon be taking over, discovering the laundry room is a great place for drinking games, and wondering why the heck there’s another door inside the giant closet in the living room. It’s a big deal; but one I haven’t fully acknowledged until now (I told you…Type-A Express!)

I’ve always felt it’s easier to “do the leaving” than to "be left” (file this under lessons learned from long-distance relationships), and that rang true for me during our last days in SF. San Francisco friends, don’t take my stoic, nonchalant cheerfulness as being unaffected by our departure - consider it a demonstration of my extreme optimism that we’ll see eachother again (and you should visit us while we’re traveling - FOR REAL)! Also, I’m in denial. Please know: you and the glorious city I’ve come to call home will always have my heart. And if it makes you feel any better, I’m sure I’ll have a breakdown about this eventually...

Alright, enough of this somber, serious tone; that’s not why you come to my blog! Welcome to Arden Afar and thanks for joining me (and Miles!) on our adventures around the world. I’m writing this post from 30,000 feet en route to Minnesota… in February... I am stoked to spend time with Miles’s family and friends, but slightly less stoked for the single digit temperatures. Did you know the SNOW can get TOO COLD for making snowmen? Rude.

Currently, I’m gazing out at the frozen tundra below and not feeling optimistic about my ability to gracefully handle this weather. Miles, on the other hand, thinks I’m “hearty” and can totally take it because “it’s not that cold.” Feel free to place your bets now on whose predictions will prove more accurate…

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