Spring Break in South America

Hola todos-

As this blog has been used slightly less frequently than I might have hoped for, I figured it would be the best way for me to communicate my spring break experience. Also, the entire time that I was there, I kept thinking to myself that I absolutely needed to be writing down what I was seeing, how I was feeling. The whole thing was epic- a life changing experience shared with 1-2 other people that I wouldn't have traded for anything  So without further adieu, here begins the journey through the 600 pictures I took (no worries, only a select few made the blog)..

This is probably the most important picture taken on the trip, and I start here because of two reasons;

A) Because getting to Bolivia was truly the realization of a dream. Not only is Bolivia far (27 hour bus-ride from Buenos Aires), relatively dangerous (2 of the cities we visited are on the State Departments tourism warning list) , and difficult to get into for Americans, but in the time allotted (10 days) and the other places we needed to stop at along the way (Cordoba, Salta, Jujuy, Purmamarca, Oruro), the trip seemed near impossible. And, by the third day of our trip, we had pretty much ruled it out as a possibility for time's sake. However, because of reason B)-- the fact that EVERYONE we spoke to told us we needed to get to Bolivia-- we simply would not let everything in our way stop us from getting here. Here's how we did it:

PART 1: VILLA GRAL. DEL BELGRANO (Cordoba), ARGENTINA 

OKTOBERFEST

The whole trip started here-- Oktoberfest in Cordoba, Argentina. Known as the 2nd largest Oktoberfest celebration in the world, it is also known as the Fiesta de Cerveza. Needless to say, it was unnecessarily expensive (30 pesos for a mug, 25 pesos--each day-- to enter, 30 pesos per 1/2 lt. of beer) for a bit of fun, and I spent a majority of the time in the (surprisingly) natural beauty that surrounded the festival. This is the only picture of me actually inside the fair itself.

The rest of the time was spent in one of two places:

As we were walking to Oktoberfest on the second day, we came to a bridge crossing this river. At the time, we were in the midst of a semi-drunken but very  existential conversation about happiness and the balance between living purely in the moment and setting goals for ourselves. As we got to the bridge, we all agreed that it would be too ironic if we were to skip the opportunity to head into this incredibly beautiful valley. Needless to say, once we got down there, there wasn't a chance that we were coming back up. The peacefulness that existed there, 100 yards away from a bit of drunken mayhem, was all-encompassing and drove all 6 of us to think of nothing but staying. We found two other people sitting on a rock playing guitar and hung out there for an hour. 

So here I was, sitting with my friends in a beautiful valley listening to some hippies play guitar. Needless to say, I was more than relaxed and content. 

But there was something else. An itch. The river was too beautiful, too long and mysterious and I needed to find out where it led, or if it even led to anything at all. But as I stood up, I started to think that perhaps that wasn´t right; is it wrong to wonder what lays at the end of the river when I am so clearly content with where I am? Why could I not relax, take in the sounds and smells and companionship of where I was? 

At this point, I am absolutely certain that I made the right decision. As I got up, my friend Ben saw me leaving and decided to join. We walked about a mile up the river, passing different houses (the stairs pictured above) and parillas (bbq grills) until we got to a dam. At the end of the damn was an abandoned swimming pool.

Sitting at the top of the pool were three kids, ranging in age from 12-17

And, within minutes, I was realizing one of my other goals/dreams since having arrived in Buenos Aires- Ben and I played 2 on 2 soccer with these kids for 2 and a half hours. I held my own, but that little kid schooled my ass 3 or 4 times. T'was embarrassing til I realized he was south american and naturally had the edge of not being severely physically impaired (read: American). 

So for me, on that particular day, the end of the river was perfect.