HieloGrande (Monday December 20th--Day 41)

I just returned from a completely different world...a world of misty mountains, jagged ice cliffs, creaking floors, and hidden pools of neon blue water. A world where people are the size of ants. A world that can never be fully explored. A world that will take your concept of reality and completely contort it. I just spent the day on a glacier.
To say that a glacier is a giant mass of ice is an understatement and an oversimplification. The Glacier Perito Moreno, a youthful glacier in comparison, forms thousands and thousands of meters about sea level at the tips of the perpetually snow covered mountains. As the snow continues to pack and layer over the years, it compacts into a strong, glacier ice mass that slowly makes its way down the mountain. At the base, these layers collect, futher compact, and form the ever-changing, ever-moving, and ideally ever-present mass of ice that I spent the last seven hours exploring.
I will admit that this day was a MAJOR financial splurge. As it should, the Argentinan government is very protective of its glacier. So access is limitted and expensive and direct contact is even more limitted and more expensive. Whatever. I have only one life and I`ve worked for six years to afford this trip. Besides, I knew it was worth every penny after only thirty minutes on the bus to the park. Finally, I saw the green, lush mountain valleys that I imagined Patagonia to be. Cascading waterfalls. Mountains hidden in the clouds. Huge clear bodies of water. Thick forests. Smooth sloping hills. Rainbows. By the time we reached the glacier viewpoint, I already had tears in my eyes. This glacier--a field of jagged ice cliffs stretching for kilometers and kilometers--made its presense known to every one of my senses. Its radiant blue cliffs. Its rumbling movement. Its roaring creeks as its edges break into the lake. The dense moisture in the air. My mind, clouded with disbelief, could barely keep up with my racing heart. And I would be on that ice in less than an hour.
After taking a short boat ride to the other side of the lake, we met out guides, strolled through the dense woods, and put on our gear. Game time. It really was like walking on another planet. We were so small. Whether someone was standing right next to me, twenty yards away, or 400 yards away, they still looked so very small. The mountain closest to us towered above us like a 2000 meter wall. Kilometers away, accross the glacier field, rose more mountains. And here we were, walking accross a field of dense, old, moving ice. Deep cracks. Neon blue pools. Rolling white hills. Such detail. So much texture. Every direction the same, yet every direction so different. I wish I could explain this better. I wish the pictures did it justice. I wish I could tell you what it felt like. But I can`t. It was unlike any experience I have ever had and I cannot seem to fully process what just happened. Absolutely brilliant. Absofuckinglutely brilliant.

Sur de Argentina: Is this REALLY Argentina (Sunday December 19th--Day 40)

Before starting my travels to the south, I had heard from many people that southern Argentina isn`t really Argentina. Because the towns and cities of southern Argentina historically belong to Europe and currently belong to tourists, they don`t provide an accurate image of Argentinan life. Although their words didn`t discourage me from wanting to travel south (come on...this is Patagonia we`re talking about), their warnings did spark my curiousity. Are these places any less Argentinian than Northern Argentina? What exactly does it mean to be `more Argentinian`? Does any person--foreigner or resident--have the right to declare certain characteristics as more or less authentic?
So far, I have spent a considerable amount of time in three places: the highway, Puerto Madryn, and El Calafate.
The highway. Long stretches of ranch lang. Gauchos, sheep, horses, cows, and llamas. The occasional estancia. The rare town--neat, clean, and functional. The overpowering Andes in the background. A big sky that rivals Montana. Still Argentina.
Puerto Madryn, a small city located on the coast of Argentina, is a gateway to Patagonia. People stop here on their way to visit Peninsula Valdes (a huge nature reserve with a ton of nautical wildlife) and on their way towards the heart of Patagonia.Were there an overwhelming number of hotels? Yes. Were there a lot of foreigners? Yeah, I suppose. Were there more people with backpacks and fannypacks? Definitely. But I still felt like I was in Argentina. It`s different than San Juan, of course. It`s a city, which accounts for the spandex pants, cell phones, busy streets, and slightly faster walking speed. But the architecture, the language, the couples, the ice cream, the family picnics, the old men meeting on the corner. There was no mistaking this place. Still Argentina.
El Calafate. A beautifully placed town, that just so happens to be located near the one and only Glacier Perito Moreno. This is definitely a city that markets itself and its proximity to this world heritage site. But can you blame it? It`s not like this is Disney World--a place located in the United States but by no means an accurate representation of American life. If anything, it`s like an expensive and enlarged version of Gardiner, Montana. Still the United Stated. Still Argentina. Just hyped up a notch, and filled with foreigners. It happens. But there is real life here, too. People working. Garbage trucks driving by. Kids going to school. And besides, mountains and beautiful lakes are just as much ´Argentinian`as cows and arid land. Still Argentina.
I´m going to continue to think about this throughout the rest of my time in Patagonia and the Lake District. So expect another update within the next month. Hopefully I`ll come to a more insightful conclusion. We`ll see. For now, Argentinian or not, this place is absolutely beautiful and I am having a wonderful time wandering the streets, taking in the mountains, exploring the hills, and meeting people from all over the world. No complaints here!

Things I Miss* (Friday December 17--Day 38)

1. American Football
2. Peanut Butter

*This is bound to be an ongoing list, updated periodically throughout my trip. This is a list of things, though, so don`t write me off as entirely heartless when the names of family and friends do not appear.

Adios Granja Tia Nora. Hola nuevas aventuras. (Monday December 13--Day 34)

Alrighty, so here`s the game plan. I will be traveling for the next 6 weeks. I don`t know what my internet access will be like, but I`ll do my best to keep everyone posted. But just so you have a rough idea of what I`ll be doing and where I`ll be, here are my rough travel plans.

Puerto Madryn: December 15-17. It takes 26 hours on a bus from San Juan to Puerto Madryn. This is a gateway to Patagonia, and will be my first stop on my traveling adventure. I`ll probably spend these days resting and exploring the coast line, before my Patagonian adventure really begins.

Puerto Gallegos: December 18. After another 26 hours on a bus, I will be in Rio Gallegos. There isn`t much to do in this southern port town. Basically, it is a stop over before I take another bus inland, towards the mountains.

Calafate: December 19-23. Mountains. Glaciers. Wonderful

Chalten: December 24-29: Mountains. Hiking. Wind. Maybe a white Christmas, afterall.

Route 40: December 29-31: Chalten travels. The only bus company that risks this unreliable road. Over 40 hours of amazing sites. Awesome.

Bariloche: December 31-January 2: Happy New Years

Lake District explorations: January 2-14. El Bolson, Siete Lagos, San Martin, Zapata, etc. Hiking and exploring. Exciting.

Mendoza: January 14-17- Rest and explore

Huerta Organica: January 17-February 5. Another WWOOFing experience. This time in an organic garden south of Mendoza. A mother-daughter American power combination who moved to Argentina 6 years ago to change their lifestyle. Now, they have an experimental organic farm and they live a life without electricity and running water. Awesome.

I´ll do my best to keep you posted. And as soon as I can figure out how to add pictures to this, I`ll try to put some up. Un abrazo.

Lessons from the Farm (Sunday December 12--Day 33)

I`ve been here for four weeks. Strange. It doesn`t feel like four weeks. It feels like more. And it feels like less. Strange. And in two days, I`ll be gone. Off to start my traveling adventure throughout Argentina. Even though I spent a few days in Cordoba before starting my life in Albardon, basically this farm and this town is all I know of this grand country. That`s what happens when you stay so long in one place...you really get to know it. I am grateful for the opportunity to live and work here, in this farm, alongside these people. I`m so lucky. I learned a lot about life, family, culture, food, and people. And as to be expected from all WWOOFing experiences, I learned a lot about farming.

-Know your soil. The soil here is very acidic, and it also has the tendency to clump up like clay. So when transplanting and tilling the soil, we have to add sand to neutralize the ph level and to prevent clumping. If we didn`t add sand, everything would dry out and the roots would never grow. If we didn`t add compost, the ground would never have enough nutrients to produce our crops. Basically, your efforts should go towards helping the ground, and not towards helping the plant itself. This will produce the best results.

-Mixed crops. Pay attention to roots, to nutrients, and to insects. Plant crops such that they aren`t fighting over the same space or over the same nutrients.

-Baby your flowers before you set them free. Our farm is peppered with flowers. Lucia loves them. But before we plant them in the ground, we individually plant them in small cups in the greenhouse. Then, after watering them twice a day and caring for each individually, we can transplant the healthy ones to the ground outside to continue growing.

-Compost. In this desert environment, this farm has some of the best soil I have ever seen. They have absolutely mastered the art of composting. Compost is a necessity. It has all the nutrients you need and it traps in the moisture. Anything and everything can be composted. Food to the worm farm, weeds and grass to the other compost. Give them time, keep your compost piles separated, and keep tilling them. Once the older ones are ready, you now have beautiful, nutritional compost. Life continues.

-Wind kills. We have a weather pattern here called the Zonda. Every 5 or 6 days, we get very violent winds that cause the trees to bend to the ground and the dry dust to fly through the air. Build trees to act as wind barriers and support all of your baby flowers and young saplings with posts, or you`ll lose everything

-Worm farms. Worms don`t like meat or lemons. In large quantities, the acidic nature of these foods can hurt their skin. So if you are going to compost these foods, do so in small qualities or spread it out over your worm farm. Also, although our worm farm is rather big, you really don`t need that much space. I have heard of indoor worm farms that you can keep in your kitchen. A worthy investment, if you have a small garden.

-Plant crops in such a way that they will take care of themselves. If you plant the right ones in the right places, they don`t require much maintenance. In the four weeks I have been here, we have done minimal work in our organic garden. We planted the young plants in my first week, we water them occasionally, and already they are huge.

-You don`t need a tractor to have a successful farm. But you do need a lot of hands.

-Not all bugs are bad bugs. Take ants, for example. The black ones may not bite humans, but they will eat any crop they find. On the other hand, the red ones are very painful, but they won`t eat the plants and their extensive tunnel system brings air and water to the soil.

-Cement is awful. There are alternatives. Cement is bad for the environment. The industries that make it use a lot of energy to create this mixture, and once it is made it is very corrosive and absorbs water and nutrients from the surrounding area. For the building we are making here, we used natural products. Our `barro`--a mixture of 3 parts sand, 1 part clay, 1 part horse manure,  some water and some hay, and little bit of limestone (sidenote:also corrosive)--has created a sturdy, functioning building that will withstand the test of time just like a cement building. It takes more time, and it isn`t as glamorous. But it works, and by the end of it you know that your hands created this.

-Take adventage of what you have. Apricots are not are main crop, by any stretch of the imagination. But while we wait for the other crops to grow, we have an endless supply of falling apricots. If you wait a day, you`ll lose them to the sun. And if you pick them too soon, you`re expending too much energy. So collect the fallen ones every morning, store them if you don`t have enough for the day, and preserve them as marmalades and dried fruit. If you find bad ones amongst the fallen apricots, give them to the animals or compost them. Nothing is wasted. As a resut, we now have enough to last us through the winter, to serve our guests, and to sell for a profit. Added bonus.

-Your food doesn`t have to have preservatives. You can buy and consume fresh food every day. It is possible.

-Recycle. No excuses.

-Have fruit trees. They`re beautiful and they`re delicious. 

-The `Bancal Profundo` method of organic gardening is an extremely efficient way to grow more crops in a smaller place. This combines concepts of mixed gardening, compost use, and diversification to produce four times as many crops as a regular organic garden.

-Flowers aren`t just pretty. There are certain flowers that you should pair with certain crops, to act as an insecticide. For example, we plant roses near our vineyards, because there is a certain bug that kills roses and grapes, but will attack the roses first. So if the roses start to die, take out the plant and dispose of it and its insects before they make their way to the grapes.

-Weeds will grow. Don`t let them grow too much, or they`ll get the best of you and steal all of your time, effort, and energy. Little by little.

-Have herbs and aloe. They don`t take up very much space, but they are wonderful to cook with and wonderful to use for fresh food.

-Buy books on organic farming. Pedro and Lucia did not know anything about organic farming before they started this farm. Although the farm isn`t perfect and it isn`t entirely organic, they have made such progress. But they were willing to learn, from books and from volunteers, and little by little this farm has grown into quite a production. It`s impressive, and I think it shows a lot what people can do with some will power, some energy, and personal drive.

I am sure there is more. But it`s a good list to start from.

The Yoga of Farming (Saturday December 11—Day 32)

I had full intention of practicing yoga throughout my trip here. I have the time. I know the routine. I am aware of the mental and physical benefits. But I have found that here on the farm, I just don`t really need it. Rather than set apart a time and space throughout the day to practice, I have integrated yoga into my day such that every moment and every act is a yoga.

Not all yoga is about flexibility, six packs, stretching, sweating, and breathing. Although, many forms do take on these elements. Rather, at its most simplest level, yoga is about awareness. Awareness of your body—inside and out. Awareness of how you breath, of how you feel, of how you move, of how you function. Awareness of where you are physically, of your position in your surroundings, of your relation to the rest of the world. This sense of awareness isn`t easy to find. Distractions happen and your mind wanders. But by becoming fully and entirely present, I have turned every task into a form of meditation, I have experienced pure joy from the simplest of tasks, and I have managed to pass my time here without any feeling of boredom or anxiety (except for the pool incident).

What I have come to learn is that farmwork is not always glamorous. You aren´t always harvesting the fruits of your labor. Your aren`t always seeing the results. Many of your days are filled with repetitive, seemingly mindless tasks. I have met many people who justify their work by thinking towards the final product. The ends justify the means, so they accept their tasks and work through it. But I don`t want to spend my days thinking of what is to come months from now. I want to spend my days enjoying the moment that I am in right now. Why rely on thoughts of the future, when experiences in the present are more than enough.

I`ll admit that I wasn`t always successful at my attempt at the yoga of farming. I often found myself planning my future trip, thinking about friends and family, or losing site of the task at hand. But the majority of the time, my life was yoga. I spent my days watching the sun reflect off the water droplets as they fell from the hose to the leaves of the plants, feeling my fingers slowly move as they crumbled the clumps of clay into dust, feeling my blood rush into my legs after squatting for long periods of time, locating the exact point where my back ached so I could transfer the pain to a new location, hearing the wind tickle the leaves before feeling it whip through my hair, watching the ground slowly change color as I sprinkled sand or compost onto the earth, shifting my center of balance from my heals to my toes and back to my heals again, feeling the smoothness of the dishes as the grime washed away, recognizing how my energy can be revitalized simply by smiling.

When everything is a meditation, when I am always present, nothing is aimless and nothing is boring. Even at its most simple, basic, and present level, the world is a wonderfully exciting adventure.

¨An aimless joy is a pure joy.¨

La frustraciòn en la granja (Thursday December 9 - Day 30)

Usually, I am not one to complain about situations, or even to comment on the downside of a particular circumstance. For a long time, I have lived with the belief that one can and must choose their attitude. Often, the only part of your life that you can control is your reaction. And through this process, you create your reality.

This is, perhaps, why I have felt so out-of-character during these past few days. I`ve been frustrated. Worn. Anxious. This isn`t the infamous one-month travel slump. It`s something else, and thanks to hindsight I think I`ve figured it out.

Collectively, we at the farm have put weeks and weeks of man-hours working on the pool. Yes, I know. My farm has a pool. Strange. But the owners like to swim and they use it as a money-making attraction, charging people 10 pesos to use the pool for the day and charging birthday parties even more. The fact that I am working in a pool and not in a garden does not upset me. Well does not upset me too much. The problem is that, like so many things I have seen in Argentina, this pool is much better conceptually than in reality. Prevention and planning seem like foreign concepts. In stead, people think of an idea, act upon it immediately, and get it done. It may not be done well. But this is a culture with a different concept of time. So if it does wrong the first time (which it usually is), there is always tomorrow to do it again.

So let`s talk about this pool. They had it installed a few years ago and every year (sometimes multiple times per year) they have to drain it and clean it. Why? Because they have no cover to keep out the inevitable dust storms. They have a filter that breaks on a weekly basis. They have layers of paint trapping in fungus and mushrooms. This year, we had the pleasure of cleaning it twice. In October, they painted it white on top of a layer of mushrooms. Within a weak, the paint was pealing and we were stuck with an ugly, dirty pool. We drained it last weak and spent a few days chipping away some of the paint. Yesterday, Jenny and I spent the day on our hands and knees scrubbing the floor with a highly concentrated chloric acid solution. Mind you. We are in a pool, in 95 degree weather, with the sun beating down, breathing in gaseous air for seven hours. At the end of the day, our third looked the same as the rest. And all the while, as we were risking our health for a money-making attraction, we knew that the pool would return to its dirty state after a few weeks. We knew our work was for nothing. As if that wasn`t frustrating enough, after explaining our concerns to the owner, all we could receive was a simple ^No. No hay ningùn problema.^ Double the frustration.

This morning, the six of us got up before dawn in the attempt to finish this pool before the heat of the day. Thanks, South Africa, for this brilliant plan. Jenny knows what it is like to work in the heat of the day, and she wasn`t going to go through that again. After six straight hours, we called it. Are there still mushrooms? Yes. Is it clean? No. For a perfectionist, this is the worst part of it all. I am participating in the cycle. I did the job. I didn`t do it to the best of my ability. The cycle continues. There is nothing more I can do, nor is there anything else I care to do. It`s a pool. I don`t even like swimming!

So how do I feel now? Fine, actually. Great! In fact. I couldn`t convince myself to feel jolly about this shitty situation, but I learned a lot and I was able to acknowledge a really strong emotional reaction. I got to work with a great group of people to try to solve a problem. I became even more excited to be in Patagonia. I got a free high, care of toxic fumes. And I learned that working hard for the sake of working hard is not nearly as fulfilling as working hard for a project you passionately believe in. Today, I experienced the former, and it just wasn`t as enjoyable.

Buen Provecho Part 3 (Sunday December 5 - Day 26)

Every single  day, one of us takes a walk down to Martin`s Market—a small, sign-less foodstore that has the same four workers every day—and we buy our ingredients for lunch. By the time the list is made, you take the walk to the store, you wait your turn, you chat to the workers about their family, you have the meat cut, you ask for the rest of the food from behind the counter, you take your bags, and you walk home…you have `lost` an hour of your day. No one thinks to stock their kitchen with every possible non-perishable so they`ll have enough food for two weeks. For families here, this trip to the market is not an inconvenience. It is reality and it is daily life. For me, this is one of my favorite parts of the day.

This is unlike any place I have ever been in the United States. The food is local. Fresh. The meat is cut before your eyes. The vegetables were delivered that morning. The bread was baked by the neighbor at 5am. There isn`t variety, in the sense that we know. There aren`t 23 brands of kidney beans and 16 types of apple juice. But there is everything you need. There`s no stress. It`s personal. You talk with a gentleman behind a counter and he gets you everything you need. Coffee. Bread. Vegies. Fruit. Oatmeal (occasionally). Crackers. Cheese. Spices. You can either pay there, or they`ll add it to your tab and you can pay when you have the money. No stress. Only pleasantries and personal interactions.

Would this work in the States? Maybe. But probably not. We want options. We want the right to choose a brand. We want the feeling of speed and efficiency as we maneuver our packed cart through the isles looking for the best deal and the right item. But if grocery shopping were always like this, I think it would change the way we schedule our days, we look at our meals, and we interact with other people.

Of course, Argentina has the big super markets. In fact, rumor has it there`s a Walmart in San Juan. Go figure. Last Sunday I had the pleasure of accompanying an older gentleman who I met in the park to the local supermarket (the only store in San Juan open on Sundays, actually). And as he walked with me, arm and arm, down each and every aisle, showing me with excitement and awe how amazing it is to buy milk and soap and vegetables and boxed pasta all in the same store, I realized how grand these large, warehouse, fluorescent –lit supermarkets must seem. Of course, I too acted shocked, amazed, and grateful that he would take the time out of his day to show me this magical place. But inside I was a little saddened and slightly nostalgic for Martin`s Market and my previous food shopping experiences. I don`t know if this place if the future of Argentina. I`m sure no one could make such a sweeping judgement. But for the sake of communities, I truly hope it isn`t. A meal beginning with `Buen Provecho` won`t taste the same.

Una vida tonta, ¿no? (Friday December 3 - Day 24)

Friday December 3: Day 24

I laugh every day. Every single day. I know how lucky I am and I know how absurd this lifestyle may appear. It really is silly. Today at lunch, I was able to sit back and just watch what was happening around me. It was like watching a movie through someone else`s eyes. Sitting around one table, in an adobe house on the outskirts of some small town in Northern Argentina, there is a girl from South Africa, three Germans, a French man, a guy from England, a young woman from Switzerland, an older woman from Canada, and a retired Argentinean couple from San Juan. There are four languages being spoken simultaneously, although usually everyone is trying to communicate in broken Castellano. We are all so different. Language. Culture. Body type. Body language. Personality. Passions. Looks. Skills. Reasons for traveling. Goals. But we`re here. Together. And no matter what the differences are, we are family. We clean up after each other. We joke around. We share food. We rest together. We sit in silence together. We watch the news together. And through it all, our true personalities manage to shine through. The South African is charming. The Germans are free spirited and wide eyed. The Swiss is strong and confident.  This wouldn`t work for everyone. It isn`t easy to be yourself in an unknown group in a foreign country. I think it takes that sparkle in your eye.  That genuine integrity and that self confidence. It is touching to realize how passion, intensity, sincerity, curiosity, and integrity can outshine any language and cultural barrier.

Later that night, we all went to town for a beer. We sat around small tables in front of the local phone station near the town`s central plaza. Families passed by on their way to the tango show that had come to town. Young boys sat on their motorbikes and whistled at the girls as they walked by. Old men sat together and smiled large, toothless grins. Packs of dogs roamed the streets looking for anything new and exciting. And we sat amongst it all. A town that, in reality, would not attract internationals without Granja Tia Nora`s WWOOFing network.  A town that, in reality, I would never have been lucky enough to see without Pedro and Lucia`s invitation. A family that would not exist without our personalities. This is absurd. Beautiful. Silly. Unexpected. Wonderful.

IHP en la cabeza (Wednesday December 1-Day 22)

I remember talking to IHP alumni in 2007, before begining my travels with International Honors Program to Brazil, South Africa, and Vietnam. I remember them telling me that I would never be able to look at a city the same way again. Never again could I be a casual traveler, an unemotional bystander, an oblivious passerby. By the end of those months, I knew they were right. I had sharpened my critical eye. I had grown curious about how communities function. And I had grown accustomed to asking endless amounts of questions, without finding a definite truth.

Three years later, nothing has changed. As I live in Albardon, a small town 15km outside of San Juan, IHP lives on. Take for example, my ongoing current fascination with water and garbage.

Water. Right now, I live in the driest place I have ever been. It barely rains. The sun is so strong. The soil is so arid. It is a desert. When I first crossed the ^Rio San Juan^ in a bus to Albardon, I assumed the state was either in a horrible drought or that the river was always bone dry during the summer. I was wrong on both accounts. After two weeks of living here, I finally asked Pedro about the dry river bed. Apparently, there hasn`t been water for over 30 years. It has been damned about 25 kms west of here, and is now a favorite swimming spot for locals. The one river is now channeled into multiple canals and spread across the state. As Pedro put it, rather than only 30 families having access to water, now 3000 families can have access. So every 6<sup>th</sup> day, from 11pm to 3am, we can open a little slot in the canal and let water run through a cement pathway into our own mini-reservoir. Everyone has their allotted slot, but If a neighbor wants to switch times with us or borrow some of our water for the week, he just has to walk down the street and ask us. It`s that simple. Unfortunately for the Granja, this water is not enough to water all of the crops and flowers we have. So the majority of our watering is done with regular, potable water. It is sanitized by the city and flows through a series of pipes into our home, bathroom, kitchen, and outdoor water fountains. You would think that the extra expense would inspire them to use it more sparingly, but Pedro and Lucia are rather careless with it. They do the majority of their watering in the middle of the daytime, when the sun is beating down and evaporating all of the water before the plants even have a chance. Interesting, no? I think so. But after talking to a gentleman at a family party last weekend, I found out that water conservation and water knowledge is only now beginning to gain popularity. This man, a water engineer and consultant, speaks to schools and businesses about the importance of saving water, checking its mineral content, and using filters. Conveniently, he sells filters as a side job. Ulterior motive, perhaps. But regardless, I would have expected water to be a bigger topic of discussion in a place as dry and arid as San Juan.

Now, garbage. You would have to be blind to ignore the intense presence of garbage in the Argentinean landscape. And be incapable of smelling. It`s everywhere. Stretches of desert filled with plastic bags. Burn piles on the sides of street. Trash floating down the canals. Little children nonchalantly tossing their candy wrappers on the floor. It`s awful. Like so many beautiful countries I have visited, Argentina seems to take nature for granted. This is a topic that I will continue to question and deconstruct throughout my trip, but I do have some answers already. After talking to Lucia, I learned that the state does not really pick up trash on a regular basis. There are trucks that drive to certain places—the end of roads and busy neighborhoods—for example, but they are not reliable. So people burn their trash, even though that too is illegal and incredibly dangerous. As for recycling, it is up to individuals to recycle on their own. The majority of municipalities have recycling centers, but it is often far from people`s homes and the financial payback does not cover the gas to transport the goods. For us on the farm, we have collected truck loads of bottles over time. In fact, yesterday Jenny from South Africa and I spent the morning crushing plastic bottles to see if we could consolidate two truck loads into one. It worked. But I imagine that most people don`t have the time, patience, and drive to go through the trouble. Especially when it appears that they are not taught the value of their environment as a child. Yes, occasionally I see recycle bins in parks or signs that say ^We have the cleanest air in the world. Protect it.^ But that is not enough. I want to  find out what is going through people`s heads when they throw trash on the ground and why a government that makes so much money off of its natural treasures is not working harder to protect them.