If you ask the same question enough, you´re bound to get answers. More precisely. If you ask the same question enough to a variety of people, you´re bound to get a lot of different and often contradicting answers. Most precisely. If you ask the same question enough to a variety of people in a variety of seemlingly unrelated circumstances, you´re bound to get a lot of different and often contradictory answers that you never expected and that you may not want to hear. Welcome to the world of multiplicity and relativity. It´s a struggle. And I´m stuck.
I am currently living and working in Huerta de Vida, a small garden in Tunuyan (I´ll tell you more about the actual agricultural project in a later blog). I expected to come here to work hard, to expand my gardening skills, and to eat a lot of delicious vegetarian food. And these expectatios have indeed been met. But it is very obvious to me that I have gotten far more than what I bargained for. My full presense here, in this place, with these people, has provided me with an answer to that repeated question I´ve been asking. What is real? Unfortunately, the answer is something I did not want to hear, even though it was something I already knew. It is an answer so large and obvious, but you too will continue to ignore it, to deny it, and to hide from it. It is an answer that makes living right now so much harder, even though its acceptance would free us into a happier, more fulfilled life. It´s an answer that gives an image of a global reality, but requires us to build upon an internal strength. It´s this answer I am learning, and it´s an answer that...well...fucking sucks.
So what is our reality now, then? Well, globally speaking the world is dying. Our resources are being used up faster than we can create new systems to handle our ever increasing population. Solar panals and hybrid cards won´t save us when everyone in India drives a car, when our industrialized food systems can no longer operate and feed our overpopulated world, and when inequality and insecurity continue to grow. As a country, we are a mess. Our history, darkened by secret plots and dirty wars, continues to repeat itself. Our tax dollars don´t go to social secutrity and medicare, but to the training, arming, and enforcing of mass tortures and murders of innocent citizens so to give power to leaders who benefit our global economic interests. That economic interest does not trickle down to the people. Our economy is a fake system, based on a linear logic that doesn´t apply to the real world and communicatd through light money and invisible numbers that have no basis in reality. But we are told our current financial state will improve and that we will overcome this like the great depression (nevermind the fact that we survived the great depression because a war began, and our current war is draining us) so we do and change nothing. Our congress is controlled by companies and our president, lovely and genuine as he may be, is vulnerable and powerless. People are dying and killing for reasons and causes they don´t understand, and we may be one assasination or crisis away from full Marshall Law. And when we no longer have the oil or infrastructure to ship that bite of food that traveled more than 1500 miles to your mouth, the grocery store shelves will go empty and we will starve.As individuals, the situation is almost worse. We have all we want, we exercise more and eat ´healthy,´ we strive to live like the people we see on TV and in the magazines, and we are entertained literally around the clock. BUT WE´RE NOT HAPPIER. Depression is up. Anorexia is up. Identity crises are up. Overstimulation is up. We cannot relate with others, and we barely recognize ourselves. No wonder we have no concept of reality. We have an endless amount of information at our fingertips, but we choose whatever we want to hear so our knowledge doesn´t expand. We are well educated, but we only know how to think within a certain confine and how to find a job to become a productive member of society. We are overstimulated and passive. Our daily lifestyle is killing us mentally and physically, but we continue to believe that we can live our own life only concerned with our own success.
This is not a conspiracy theory. This is not the twisted rebel logic of a few anarchists. People--experts from all disciplines and people from all communities--are talking about this. And if this bleak reality is the really real reality that I´ve been looking for, then what do we do? What do I do? I could choose to write it off as just another person´s concept of reality, an individual creation that bears no weight on my life and my decisions. But I know in my gut that this answer means more. Last year, I went looking for an answer to explain why I was tired, why I had to touch things when I walked in order to keep me grounded, why I had to constantly chew on something to stay focused. I went to a nutritionist because subconsciously, I knew the reason why I was sick. But even though I knew the answer before she even spoke the words, I still reacted so violently. I was furious with everyone: her, myself, family, friends. I denied it and fought it, but did begin to change. A year later, after slowly coming to terms with it and slowly fighting it, I am better. Not entirely, and maybe I never will be. But I am a real person now who loves life, loves giving her body what it needs, and loves feeling real again. A year ago, I didn´t want that reality to be real, but it was. And admitting it was one of the hardest and most rewarding things I ever did.
That was practice for this. This is a reality harder to admit and harder to fight. But I will accept this answer and I will include it within my scope of what is real. And in the end, I will overcome this reality and work within in, and I will feel stabalized and fulfilled. Of course I don´t yet know how to respond. I don´t know what to do or where to go. I am figuring it out, and I will continue to do so. But I know that I will not be cynical and I will not be pessimistic. That leads to passivism, and what we need now is full presense, full optimism, and full passion. I will not be a martyr for others, but I will dedicate myself to developing local community. Through humility, personal responsability, integrity, and a whole lot of love, we can build sustainable relationships that can outlast any crisis. Through hard work, through helping each other, and through building local and deep economies, we can build a sustainable environment that can outlast any crisis. At least I hope so.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Otra transición (Sunday January 16--Day 68)
I am on the overnight bus traveling from San Martin de los Andes to Tunuyan. There is something about traveling, that stretch of motion between places, that really excites me. The adventure. The unknown. The new sites. The fresh slate. But this time, I am more excited than usual. This time, I just cannot wait to get there.
I have been hopping around from location to location for over a month. I am exhausted. Like a wet sponge, I have soaked up so much information that I can barely move, think, or process it all. I´m almost nub. Not entirely. But almost. I dont know how people travel for months and months without stopping. For me, I need to slow it down and stay in one place for a long time. So the timing of this next farm couldn´t be better.
When I get to Tunuyan tomorrow at 5am, I will go to the farm of Margot and Vida, a mother-daughter pair from the United States who came to Argentina four years ago to start this self-sustainable garden. I heard from previous volunteers that for the next few weeks I am going to work my butt off and learn A LOT. I am so ready. Almost. I just have to switch my mind from go-go-travel-walk-hike-go-go to slow-slow-work-work-here-here-now-now. But that shouldn´t be too hard. I don´t know what to expect but I have no personal agenda. I have seen all I wanted to see and done all I wanted to do. The next few weeks in Argentina will be spent there, on that farm, learning and doing all I possibly can.
So it is back to the farm for me. I´ll let you know how it goes!
I have been hopping around from location to location for over a month. I am exhausted. Like a wet sponge, I have soaked up so much information that I can barely move, think, or process it all. I´m almost nub. Not entirely. But almost. I dont know how people travel for months and months without stopping. For me, I need to slow it down and stay in one place for a long time. So the timing of this next farm couldn´t be better.
When I get to Tunuyan tomorrow at 5am, I will go to the farm of Margot and Vida, a mother-daughter pair from the United States who came to Argentina four years ago to start this self-sustainable garden. I heard from previous volunteers that for the next few weeks I am going to work my butt off and learn A LOT. I am so ready. Almost. I just have to switch my mind from go-go-travel-walk-hike-go-go to slow-slow-work-work-here-here-now-now. But that shouldn´t be too hard. I don´t know what to expect but I have no personal agenda. I have seen all I wanted to see and done all I wanted to do. The next few weeks in Argentina will be spent there, on that farm, learning and doing all I possibly can.
So it is back to the farm for me. I´ll let you know how it goes!
San Martin de los Andes (Saturday January 15--Day 67)
I don´t have too much to say about this town, mostly because I didn´t spend a lot of time there and my activities were not that varied. However, what I will say is that this wonderfuly place answered many of my recent questions, erased many of my accumulating doubts, and filled the voids left my the last few places. But I promise, I won´t say much.
The realizations were small and simple at first, almost to the point of being coincidental. This morning, I had left the hostel thinking about clocktowers and wondering why I hadn´t seen any since the north; within five minuted I arrived downtown and there it was: a giant clocktower. Last night on the bus while eating my yogurts and crackers, I had been thinking nostalgically of Albardon´s Martin´s Mercado and wondering when I would have the opportunity to shop at a place besides the major supermarkets; this afternoon I found a small market with the food behind the counter and happily conversed with the workers about the weather and their family. Before leaving this morning, I thought about how much I missed the predictable blocks and perpendicular roads of most towns; then I found a map of this town and the layout was as such.
Slowly throughout the day, I began to realize how San Martin de los Andes takes the best of the past few towns and created (organically, I feel) the perfect combination of family, work, and tourists. There is an artisan fair in the main plaza like El Bolson, but two blocks away there is a park filled with picnic blankets where women have piled on used clothes and appliances to sell to real people. There are street performers and tourist information centers, and on the same block there are teens skateboarding, couples cuddling, and little kids painting. There are paths through the forests, places to buy crafts, and woderful restaurants, but you need not feel obliged to participate in the consumerism in order to spend time in the town. I just bought some bread, went to the park, and people watched for hours as families came and went, as street performers set up their shows right in front of me, and as other foreigners strolled through town snapping pictures of the beauty.
It has a wonderful vibe, and I wish I could have spent more time there. Who knows. I heard they have one of the most beautiful fall foliage seasons in South America. I´ll be just over the mountains in March, so I may come back for a few days. Vamos a ver. What a wonderful place.
The realizations were small and simple at first, almost to the point of being coincidental. This morning, I had left the hostel thinking about clocktowers and wondering why I hadn´t seen any since the north; within five minuted I arrived downtown and there it was: a giant clocktower. Last night on the bus while eating my yogurts and crackers, I had been thinking nostalgically of Albardon´s Martin´s Mercado and wondering when I would have the opportunity to shop at a place besides the major supermarkets; this afternoon I found a small market with the food behind the counter and happily conversed with the workers about the weather and their family. Before leaving this morning, I thought about how much I missed the predictable blocks and perpendicular roads of most towns; then I found a map of this town and the layout was as such.
Slowly throughout the day, I began to realize how San Martin de los Andes takes the best of the past few towns and created (organically, I feel) the perfect combination of family, work, and tourists. There is an artisan fair in the main plaza like El Bolson, but two blocks away there is a park filled with picnic blankets where women have piled on used clothes and appliances to sell to real people. There are street performers and tourist information centers, and on the same block there are teens skateboarding, couples cuddling, and little kids painting. There are paths through the forests, places to buy crafts, and woderful restaurants, but you need not feel obliged to participate in the consumerism in order to spend time in the town. I just bought some bread, went to the park, and people watched for hours as families came and went, as street performers set up their shows right in front of me, and as other foreigners strolled through town snapping pictures of the beauty.
It has a wonderful vibe, and I wish I could have spent more time there. Who knows. I heard they have one of the most beautiful fall foliage seasons in South America. I´ll be just over the mountains in March, so I may come back for a few days. Vamos a ver. What a wonderful place.
Viajando con un libro: Traveling with a book (Friday January 14--Day 66)
Books can be a distraction. Reading can be a way to escape your surroundings. You can be transformed to a different place, to a different time, to a different experience. So why then would I intentionally bring a book with me on a journey to find reality? Why waste time in words when I should be paying attention to what is around me and learning from real people in that moment? These are valid questions, and their concerns hold merit. But I believe that the benefit of traveling with a book can far outweight the potential costs.
First of all, a book can provide a comfortable, recognizable feeling of home. If the book is one of your favorites, it can help you to return to a place you know. If you´re lucky, it can help you to renew that ´known´ place through a fresh set of eyes.
Second of all, depending on the book itself, it can allow your mind the chance to function at a different pace. If you are on vacation and your mind has checker-out, a book can keep your brain thinking and moving. If you are traveling in an intense environment and you are over-analyzing everything around you, a book can give your brain the opportunity to turn inward and reflect internally at its own speed.
Third of all, traveling with a book is a great way to meet people. If someone sparks a conversation with me based on the book I am carrying in my hands, the odds are high that this interaction will be interesting and that this person is someone with whom I would like to speak.
Lastly, and this is a trick I learned while living in a city, traveling with a book means you are never alone and never without purpose. I can be in public by myself, without a book, and rarely will I feel self-conscious or lonely. However, there are those moments when I do feel overwhelmed, lost, and alone. And it is in those moments when the safety of a book can rescue me from these feelings. Like a security blanket for a child, I grip the book and I am not overwhelmed, I am calm. I am not lost, my presense and my stillness has purpose. I am not alone, I have the company of a new world.
Of course, depending on the book you bring and the purpose for your travels, these reasons can vary. For this trip, I opted to carry along The Unbearable Lightness of Being, one of my all-time favorites. It may not be the longest of books, but I can read it again and again at varying speeds and I will enjoy it each time. The last time I read this book, during my trip to London during Christmas of last year, I was in a very different mental place and I had a different set of prioritees and concerns. This time around, I was curious to see how my reading of this classic piece of literature would vary. Also, I knew that this companion would be a source of insight on a journey that, essencially a six month vacation, I have assigned the heavy task o finding reality and learning life´s secret. Talk about a light holiday turned heavy. Lastly, I thought that this particular book would provide a much different filter from the book I chose for my previous world travel, Ayn Rand´s Atlas Shrugged. Although, much to my surprise my readings of both books are producing rather similar insights. But that´s for another blog.
Then, once here in Argentina, I also fell victim to my used-book addiction and picked up a collection of short stories. Cuentas para regalar a personas inteligentes, or Stories to Give as Gifts to Intelligent People, by Enrique Mariscol has helped expand my spanish vocabulary and has given me tiny hidden tidbits of advice to meditate upon during long busrides. All in all, a great purchase. Well worth the few extra pesos and the few extra pounds.
So there it is. All you backpackers and traveleres out there--bring a book. I know you have to pack light, but this is a priority that can really impact your experience for the better. But choose wisely.
First of all, a book can provide a comfortable, recognizable feeling of home. If the book is one of your favorites, it can help you to return to a place you know. If you´re lucky, it can help you to renew that ´known´ place through a fresh set of eyes.
Second of all, depending on the book itself, it can allow your mind the chance to function at a different pace. If you are on vacation and your mind has checker-out, a book can keep your brain thinking and moving. If you are traveling in an intense environment and you are over-analyzing everything around you, a book can give your brain the opportunity to turn inward and reflect internally at its own speed.
Third of all, traveling with a book is a great way to meet people. If someone sparks a conversation with me based on the book I am carrying in my hands, the odds are high that this interaction will be interesting and that this person is someone with whom I would like to speak.
Lastly, and this is a trick I learned while living in a city, traveling with a book means you are never alone and never without purpose. I can be in public by myself, without a book, and rarely will I feel self-conscious or lonely. However, there are those moments when I do feel overwhelmed, lost, and alone. And it is in those moments when the safety of a book can rescue me from these feelings. Like a security blanket for a child, I grip the book and I am not overwhelmed, I am calm. I am not lost, my presense and my stillness has purpose. I am not alone, I have the company of a new world.
Of course, depending on the book you bring and the purpose for your travels, these reasons can vary. For this trip, I opted to carry along The Unbearable Lightness of Being, one of my all-time favorites. It may not be the longest of books, but I can read it again and again at varying speeds and I will enjoy it each time. The last time I read this book, during my trip to London during Christmas of last year, I was in a very different mental place and I had a different set of prioritees and concerns. This time around, I was curious to see how my reading of this classic piece of literature would vary. Also, I knew that this companion would be a source of insight on a journey that, essencially a six month vacation, I have assigned the heavy task o finding reality and learning life´s secret. Talk about a light holiday turned heavy. Lastly, I thought that this particular book would provide a much different filter from the book I chose for my previous world travel, Ayn Rand´s Atlas Shrugged. Although, much to my surprise my readings of both books are producing rather similar insights. But that´s for another blog.
Then, once here in Argentina, I also fell victim to my used-book addiction and picked up a collection of short stories. Cuentas para regalar a personas inteligentes, or Stories to Give as Gifts to Intelligent People, by Enrique Mariscol has helped expand my spanish vocabulary and has given me tiny hidden tidbits of advice to meditate upon during long busrides. All in all, a great purchase. Well worth the few extra pesos and the few extra pounds.
So there it is. All you backpackers and traveleres out there--bring a book. I know you have to pack light, but this is a priority that can really impact your experience for the better. But choose wisely.
Villa la Angostura (Thursday January 13--Day 65)
I know I say this a lot, but this time I really mean it (at least until next time I really mean it). This is certainly one of the prettiest places I have ever been. The pristine Villa la Angostura, located about two hours north of Bariloche, is nestled between a series of tree covered mountains and blue calm lakes. As far as the eye can see, there are blue skies and snow capped mountains. Clearly, I am not the only one to notice its beauty. Some of the wealthiest people in the world, from princes to Shakira, have houses here. ´Picture-perfect´doesn´t come close.
And it isn´t just the surroundings that are beautiful. The buildings and houses are just precious, in every meaning of the word. The main commercial street--nicknamed ´The Crossroads´ because it lies at the major intersection of three large roads, one heading West to Chile, one heading South to Bariloche, and one heading North to San Martin de los Andes--has managed to hide the fact that it is essentially one major throughway. Traffic strolls through town at snail speed, giving up power to pedestrians, parking cars, dogs, and signs that say ¨Traffic laws are not optional´ (that´s a first...). The streets are divided by a median of rose gardens and the sidewalks are wide walkways lined by storefronts and cafes. Everything--from the town sponsored Christmas decorations to the architectural unity of the buildings--is in its right place. Maybe ´movie perfect´ is a more appropriate description.
Once you succesully take in the beauty of the environment and the mainstreet, then you meet the real challenge: the houses. Villa la Angostura isn´t really a ´town´ per se because the majority of the residential neighborhoods (with the exception of the older, smaller houses) are located three to seven kilometer from the center. These homes are set apart, hidden down unnamed roads deep within tree covered hills. I found myself wandering through these areas for hours, getting lost in the beauty and feeling like I was in a different (much wealthier) world. Every single house--and I mean EVERY SINGLE HOUSE--is built to perfection in a unique, artistic, purposeful manner that complements and blends into the surrounding environment. At first, I couldn´t even begin the imagine what life would be like here.
But then I tried, and slowly the fairytale faded. The first thing I noticed is that not all of these houses are homes. Nearly every house in Argentina has a name: waterfall, butterfly, grandma, red flower, lakeside paradise, blue river. But attached to these names were the words cabañas, hosterìa, albergue. TNearly a quarter of these houses were independently run mini hotels, which doesn´t exactly provide that ´neighborly´ feeling I´m looking for. The second things I noticed once I wandered deeper into these areas is that these neighborhoods are growing and growing fast. Suddenly, I turned onto a road and sunlight pierced through the thinning canapy of trees. The calming silence of chirping birds was replaced by the hum of hammers and saws. Rather than welcome signs with the names of houses, there are large industrial signs with the names of architects and the pictures of building plans for future condos. It isn´t hard to formulate an image of what Villa la Angostura will look like in five to ten to fifteen years. After all, there is no one to stop this growth. This is the third thing I noticed. The people who live here either work in the hospitality industry or they live here part-time. Growth is in their economic inteest. The rest of the people are transients: foreign tourists and porteños from the capital. They have no voice.
Villa la Angostura is like a beautiful young woman who wears too much make up; with each passing year, her natural beauty fades and her painted facade becomes repulsive and obvious. My fear is that in time, the precious pristine beauty of this place will be lost for good.
And it isn´t just the surroundings that are beautiful. The buildings and houses are just precious, in every meaning of the word. The main commercial street--nicknamed ´The Crossroads´ because it lies at the major intersection of three large roads, one heading West to Chile, one heading South to Bariloche, and one heading North to San Martin de los Andes--has managed to hide the fact that it is essentially one major throughway. Traffic strolls through town at snail speed, giving up power to pedestrians, parking cars, dogs, and signs that say ¨Traffic laws are not optional´ (that´s a first...). The streets are divided by a median of rose gardens and the sidewalks are wide walkways lined by storefronts and cafes. Everything--from the town sponsored Christmas decorations to the architectural unity of the buildings--is in its right place. Maybe ´movie perfect´ is a more appropriate description.
Once you succesully take in the beauty of the environment and the mainstreet, then you meet the real challenge: the houses. Villa la Angostura isn´t really a ´town´ per se because the majority of the residential neighborhoods (with the exception of the older, smaller houses) are located three to seven kilometer from the center. These homes are set apart, hidden down unnamed roads deep within tree covered hills. I found myself wandering through these areas for hours, getting lost in the beauty and feeling like I was in a different (much wealthier) world. Every single house--and I mean EVERY SINGLE HOUSE--is built to perfection in a unique, artistic, purposeful manner that complements and blends into the surrounding environment. At first, I couldn´t even begin the imagine what life would be like here.
But then I tried, and slowly the fairytale faded. The first thing I noticed is that not all of these houses are homes. Nearly every house in Argentina has a name: waterfall, butterfly, grandma, red flower, lakeside paradise, blue river. But attached to these names were the words cabañas, hosterìa, albergue. TNearly a quarter of these houses were independently run mini hotels, which doesn´t exactly provide that ´neighborly´ feeling I´m looking for. The second things I noticed once I wandered deeper into these areas is that these neighborhoods are growing and growing fast. Suddenly, I turned onto a road and sunlight pierced through the thinning canapy of trees. The calming silence of chirping birds was replaced by the hum of hammers and saws. Rather than welcome signs with the names of houses, there are large industrial signs with the names of architects and the pictures of building plans for future condos. It isn´t hard to formulate an image of what Villa la Angostura will look like in five to ten to fifteen years. After all, there is no one to stop this growth. This is the third thing I noticed. The people who live here either work in the hospitality industry or they live here part-time. Growth is in their economic inteest. The rest of the people are transients: foreign tourists and porteños from the capital. They have no voice.
Villa la Angostura is like a beautiful young woman who wears too much make up; with each passing year, her natural beauty fades and her painted facade becomes repulsive and obvious. My fear is that in time, the precious pristine beauty of this place will be lost for good.
Bariloche (Wednesday January 12--Day 64)
After spending a considerable amount of time in Bariloche over the past few weeks, I finally move on tomorrow. Bariloche is an easy--albeit expensive--place to spend a couple of weeks. There is so much to do in this city. It´s overwhelming, and often you feel like each interaction is a business transaction. But I was able to escape from the situation unscathed. I found a wonderful hostel--El Gaucho--that had knowledgeable, friendly owners willing to break down all of the information, lend their own suggestions, and answer all of your questions.
So I navigated the city rather well, and was able to find a fair share of economical, nature-filled activities. A day bike riding through the Circuito Chico outside of Bariloche--passing monstrous, well-designed houses, dense green forests, sparkling blue lakes, expensive all-inclusive resorts, endless series of lakes and rivers, family picnics, fresh waterfalls, and a panoramic views of a slowly impending storm coming over the Andes. A day walking around Lake Gutierrez--lake beaches packed with Argentinan families, huge houses with detailed decors, trailheads to backcountry trails, hidden waterfalls, and the smell of drying forests. Day hikes on hills used for skiing in winters. Multi-day trips to the backcountry sleeping in a rented tent underneath a star-filled sky that had more sparkle than vacant, dark space. After spending so much time in flat, dry Argentina, it was refreshing to spend so many days in an environment where the dense forests seem like a child´s dream, where the snow-covered peaks stretch on for ever, and where the sky seems even bluer when up against the green rolling hills.
Yet with all of that said, Bariloche is not a place I could see myself living. In just ten years, this city has expanded from a small town in a perfect location to a large destination in an exploited location. It´s not exactly a secret. The new hotels and resorts are new and pristine, their character and charm is present, but forced. The outskirts of town are poorly buil, constructed cheaply and quickly to provide the hospitality industry with enough labor. The layout of the city is different from any other Argentinan town, lacking central plazas and public spaces within the confines of the city itself. It just seemed so impersonal and distant. People don´t say ´hello´on the street and no one really talks to strangers outside of business transactions. Most dissapointing, the people watching was entirely subpar. Yes I could watch the few street performers, the groups of confused tourists, or the hordes of drunk teenagers celebrating their recent high school graduation. But the whole situation lacked character, warmth, and charm.
So over all, Bariloche is a beautiful city that provides fantastic hospitality and easy access to nature for the outdoor enthusiasts, wealthy travelers, and chocolate lovers. But if you´re looking for something more, this may not be the place for you.
So I navigated the city rather well, and was able to find a fair share of economical, nature-filled activities. A day bike riding through the Circuito Chico outside of Bariloche--passing monstrous, well-designed houses, dense green forests, sparkling blue lakes, expensive all-inclusive resorts, endless series of lakes and rivers, family picnics, fresh waterfalls, and a panoramic views of a slowly impending storm coming over the Andes. A day walking around Lake Gutierrez--lake beaches packed with Argentinan families, huge houses with detailed decors, trailheads to backcountry trails, hidden waterfalls, and the smell of drying forests. Day hikes on hills used for skiing in winters. Multi-day trips to the backcountry sleeping in a rented tent underneath a star-filled sky that had more sparkle than vacant, dark space. After spending so much time in flat, dry Argentina, it was refreshing to spend so many days in an environment where the dense forests seem like a child´s dream, where the snow-covered peaks stretch on for ever, and where the sky seems even bluer when up against the green rolling hills.
Yet with all of that said, Bariloche is not a place I could see myself living. In just ten years, this city has expanded from a small town in a perfect location to a large destination in an exploited location. It´s not exactly a secret. The new hotels and resorts are new and pristine, their character and charm is present, but forced. The outskirts of town are poorly buil, constructed cheaply and quickly to provide the hospitality industry with enough labor. The layout of the city is different from any other Argentinan town, lacking central plazas and public spaces within the confines of the city itself. It just seemed so impersonal and distant. People don´t say ´hello´on the street and no one really talks to strangers outside of business transactions. Most dissapointing, the people watching was entirely subpar. Yes I could watch the few street performers, the groups of confused tourists, or the hordes of drunk teenagers celebrating their recent high school graduation. But the whole situation lacked character, warmth, and charm.
So over all, Bariloche is a beautiful city that provides fantastic hospitality and easy access to nature for the outdoor enthusiasts, wealthy travelers, and chocolate lovers. But if you´re looking for something more, this may not be the place for you.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
What hiking means to me? (Tuesday January 11--Day 63)
What does hiking mean to me? I haven't really given this question too much thought, which is strange considering how important this activity is to me. It's not like I haven't thought about it...it's just that all of my deconstruction has been on the shallow side of deep. I've either measured the activity in bilateral terms---the journey or the destination--or I have considered hiking to be a form of escape from popular society. But this doesn't really explain why hike, what I experience while I am hiking, and what I gain while hiking. It doesn't even scratch the surface.
For me...hiking is about realization. When I hike, I realize the world, I realize my place within the world, and in turn I realize myself.
When I am hiking, I realize the world. I realize how big it is. And even though I have seen hundreds of river valleys, have climbed dozens of mountains, and have seen many a beautiful sight, each time I realize the world anew. Yes,I begin to note the similarities between various places. A certain smell of dried pine needles in El Bolson can transform me back to a summer in Yellowstone. The way the sunlight turns the hills golden remind me of my home in Montana. The sound of a calm lake can instantly bring my back to my childhood on the shores of Michigan. The site of rolling hills make me feel like a teenager in upstate New York. But at the same time, despite the similarities and the connected memories, each time I hike I experience something new and unique. Here, I have heard the way a field of tall grass can echo with the sound of popping seeds on a hot summer day; I have slept under a night sky that has more shimmering stars than black space; I have stumbled upon a glacier lake of ice burgs hidden behind a field of giant white boulders. It's a big world, and with each hike I realize a little bit more.
But I also realize where I fit within this big world. Hiking is how I connect with my surroundings. Through vision and through touch, I participate in the natural world. I used to believe that, with each mountain I climbed, I was somehow conquering a piece of the world and that I was somehow taking ownership over this moment and place. But this is not the case. Not in the least bit. From the top of a mountain, I realize how small I am. When I see peaks of mountains stretching as far as the eye can see, I realize how little of the world I know and how little of the world I will ever know. I am small and I am expendable. I am humbled by the big details and fascinated by the small. The world is bigger than I will ever be, and the most I can do is continue to acknowledge and appreciate it.
Although I am small in comparison to the world, I realize too how big I am in my own life. I may not be conquering a mountain, but I am conquering something internal. Hiking, a physically and mentally strenuous task, shows me what I am capable of. I learn to listen to myself, and to balance the physical with the mental. When my body is tired, my mind takes control and tells my body to stop thinking and keep stepping. When my body can physically handle the 12 hour hike over two mountains but my mind knows how dangerous it is to do alone, I need to listen to my intuition and balance the risks. With each hike, I learn to become more present and I learn to listen to my physical and mental demands. I begin to diminish the separation between mind and body and I begin to realize myself as a single whole individual.
And for that realization, I hike and I will continue to hike and I can only hope that everyone finds something that fulfills them in such a way.
For me...hiking is about realization. When I hike, I realize the world, I realize my place within the world, and in turn I realize myself.
When I am hiking, I realize the world. I realize how big it is. And even though I have seen hundreds of river valleys, have climbed dozens of mountains, and have seen many a beautiful sight, each time I realize the world anew. Yes,I begin to note the similarities between various places. A certain smell of dried pine needles in El Bolson can transform me back to a summer in Yellowstone. The way the sunlight turns the hills golden remind me of my home in Montana. The sound of a calm lake can instantly bring my back to my childhood on the shores of Michigan. The site of rolling hills make me feel like a teenager in upstate New York. But at the same time, despite the similarities and the connected memories, each time I hike I experience something new and unique. Here, I have heard the way a field of tall grass can echo with the sound of popping seeds on a hot summer day; I have slept under a night sky that has more shimmering stars than black space; I have stumbled upon a glacier lake of ice burgs hidden behind a field of giant white boulders. It's a big world, and with each hike I realize a little bit more.
But I also realize where I fit within this big world. Hiking is how I connect with my surroundings. Through vision and through touch, I participate in the natural world. I used to believe that, with each mountain I climbed, I was somehow conquering a piece of the world and that I was somehow taking ownership over this moment and place. But this is not the case. Not in the least bit. From the top of a mountain, I realize how small I am. When I see peaks of mountains stretching as far as the eye can see, I realize how little of the world I know and how little of the world I will ever know. I am small and I am expendable. I am humbled by the big details and fascinated by the small. The world is bigger than I will ever be, and the most I can do is continue to acknowledge and appreciate it.
Although I am small in comparison to the world, I realize too how big I am in my own life. I may not be conquering a mountain, but I am conquering something internal. Hiking, a physically and mentally strenuous task, shows me what I am capable of. I learn to listen to myself, and to balance the physical with the mental. When my body is tired, my mind takes control and tells my body to stop thinking and keep stepping. When my body can physically handle the 12 hour hike over two mountains but my mind knows how dangerous it is to do alone, I need to listen to my intuition and balance the risks. With each hike, I learn to become more present and I learn to listen to my physical and mental demands. I begin to diminish the separation between mind and body and I begin to realize myself as a single whole individual.
And for that realization, I hike and I will continue to hike and I can only hope that everyone finds something that fulfills them in such a way.
Argentina vs Uh-mer-ick-uh
Man oh man. All I can say is THANK GOODNESS we don't learn a thing or two from Argentina. Democracy. Pshh. Socialist. This country is full of socialists. Imagine an America like THIS?!? NEVER. Every country has its problems...but we can fix our situation with the same ol' system. Yep. Were just fine. I mean....honestly...would you really want to live in a world like this?
Imagine if the federal government and local municipality advertised all of the public works that it did. Of course, that means it would actually have to do some public works. But that's besides the point. Wherever you go...you drive down the highway, walk down the street, play in the local park...and there are signs, painted in your patriotic colors of course, that declare that the government is working here. Oh, and the transparency. It would make you sick. What an information overload. They publicize the name of each project, the date it started, the projected cost, the private companies working with the government, and the name of the project manager. I don't know about you...but when I am living my own life, doing my own job, and achieving my own goals...I don't have time to acknowledge what some foreign, faceless body is doing. Even if that foreign, faceless body is right next door and has a name.
Imagine. Universal health care. We tried that...or at least talked about trying that...or something like that. Right? But these guys. Anyone--citizen, traveler, tourist, foreigner, Bolivian, Peruvian, alien--is covered here. Imagine the chaos! People come on buses from bordering countries to get help in Buenas Aires' hospitals. And if you goto these hospitals, you have to wait...sometimes for hours. Unless it is an amergency. But come on. Hours. And sometimes there isn't air conditioning. Yeah the doctors are amazing and qualified and friendly. But is it worth waiting in a semi-crowded room just to receive free and knowledgeable health care. I guess that is why some people choose to have private health care as well. Then they can go to private hospitals and wait in clean, air-conditioned rooms for expensive and knowledgeable health care from the same caliber doctors. These people have to pay for everyone...yep, that's right...whether they use the service or not...they have
to pay for the public health care. Shame. Just so their fellow citizens, their fellow human beings, and maybe even themselves can receive health care. Not worth the extra cash. Definitely not.
Imagine a public education system that out-performed the private schools. Yeah. That's right. The government is controlling our children. The last two presidents have started over 1000 new schools. And every child gets a laptop. EVERY CHILD. And if the kid actually graduates from school, they can keep the computer. I feel sorry for computer companies in Argentina. Who are they going to sell to if every kid gets a free laptop? Honestly. Someone ought to think of their rights and their desires. And let's not even talk about the poor private universities. They don't even stand a chance. No one wants to go to these tiny, nameless universities. Their degrees don't even mean anything because the darn government has a monopoly on universities. Anyone can get in. Okay. True. Not everyone graduates. Your tax money may pay for the education of everyone...but it only pays for the certification of the brightest and toughest. Whatever. It's not like a well-educated young population would directly benefit the future of our country. Yeah. Definitely not a good investment. Why invest in public knowledge when we can invest in fake numbers and stock markets?
Imagine. Speaking of public knowledge. Did you know that the Argentinan government is installing free public wifi for the whole country? No matter where you live...city or country...you will be able to get wifi. Imagine the businesses that will suffer when no one is paying for internet. Or imagine the businesses and the news channels and the politicians that will suffer when everyone has access to news and blogs and information. A mess. What an ugly mess.
Imagine a country with less NGOs, because the government personally takes care of social problems and sponsors individuals who propose new projects. Yeah. They have their hand in everything...from women shelters to arts programs to food programs to homeless shelters. Yeah they team with individuals and groups and churches...but we all know where the power lies. Selfish, power-hungry politicians.
Imagine being forced to pay into a retirement fund. Or rather..imagine being forced to pay into a retirement fund that is actually going to be guarded and saved until you are done working your 40 years. Yeah. Right. We've heard that before.
Imagine if the disabled and mentally handicapped could ride any public transportation for free.
Imagine if the government considered water a universal right, and if you couldn't pay your bills, the government would take away your power and your gas but wouldn't cut your water.
Imagine having a constitution that, in the preamble, welcomed everyone in the world as a person with equal rights and privileges.
Yeah. Definitely not a country I would want to live in.
....what about you?
Imagine if the federal government and local municipality advertised all of the public works that it did. Of course, that means it would actually have to do some public works. But that's besides the point. Wherever you go...you drive down the highway, walk down the street, play in the local park...and there are signs, painted in your patriotic colors of course, that declare that the government is working here. Oh, and the transparency. It would make you sick. What an information overload. They publicize the name of each project, the date it started, the projected cost, the private companies working with the government, and the name of the project manager. I don't know about you...but when I am living my own life, doing my own job, and achieving my own goals...I don't have time to acknowledge what some foreign, faceless body is doing. Even if that foreign, faceless body is right next door and has a name.
Imagine. Universal health care. We tried that...or at least talked about trying that...or something like that. Right? But these guys. Anyone--citizen, traveler, tourist, foreigner, Bolivian, Peruvian, alien--is covered here. Imagine the chaos! People come on buses from bordering countries to get help in Buenas Aires' hospitals. And if you goto these hospitals, you have to wait...sometimes for hours. Unless it is an amergency. But come on. Hours. And sometimes there isn't air conditioning. Yeah the doctors are amazing and qualified and friendly. But is it worth waiting in a semi-crowded room just to receive free and knowledgeable health care. I guess that is why some people choose to have private health care as well. Then they can go to private hospitals and wait in clean, air-conditioned rooms for expensive and knowledgeable health care from the same caliber doctors. These people have to pay for everyone...yep, that's right...whether they use the service or not...they have
to pay for the public health care. Shame. Just so their fellow citizens, their fellow human beings, and maybe even themselves can receive health care. Not worth the extra cash. Definitely not.
Imagine a public education system that out-performed the private schools. Yeah. That's right. The government is controlling our children. The last two presidents have started over 1000 new schools. And every child gets a laptop. EVERY CHILD. And if the kid actually graduates from school, they can keep the computer. I feel sorry for computer companies in Argentina. Who are they going to sell to if every kid gets a free laptop? Honestly. Someone ought to think of their rights and their desires. And let's not even talk about the poor private universities. They don't even stand a chance. No one wants to go to these tiny, nameless universities. Their degrees don't even mean anything because the darn government has a monopoly on universities. Anyone can get in. Okay. True. Not everyone graduates. Your tax money may pay for the education of everyone...but it only pays for the certification of the brightest and toughest. Whatever. It's not like a well-educated young population would directly benefit the future of our country. Yeah. Definitely not a good investment. Why invest in public knowledge when we can invest in fake numbers and stock markets?
Imagine. Speaking of public knowledge. Did you know that the Argentinan government is installing free public wifi for the whole country? No matter where you live...city or country...you will be able to get wifi. Imagine the businesses that will suffer when no one is paying for internet. Or imagine the businesses and the news channels and the politicians that will suffer when everyone has access to news and blogs and information. A mess. What an ugly mess.
Imagine a country with less NGOs, because the government personally takes care of social problems and sponsors individuals who propose new projects. Yeah. They have their hand in everything...from women shelters to arts programs to food programs to homeless shelters. Yeah they team with individuals and groups and churches...but we all know where the power lies. Selfish, power-hungry politicians.
Imagine being forced to pay into a retirement fund. Or rather..imagine being forced to pay into a retirement fund that is actually going to be guarded and saved until you are done working your 40 years. Yeah. Right. We've heard that before.
Imagine if the disabled and mentally handicapped could ride any public transportation for free.
Imagine if the government considered water a universal right, and if you couldn't pay your bills, the government would take away your power and your gas but wouldn't cut your water.
Imagine having a constitution that, in the preamble, welcomed everyone in the world as a person with equal rights and privileges.
Yeah. Definitely not a country I would want to live in.
....what about you?
Esquel y El Bolson: Dos Mundos Distinctos (Wednesday January 5--Day 51)
I have been moving so quickly these past two weeks. In a span of three days, I went from selling windchimes in a hippie community to sleeping in a log cabin deep in the mountains to watching a small-town independent theater production. I really doubt that I fully grasped what was happening at each moment. I was numb by the beauty, overloaded by characters, and dizzy from the speed. How could I be present ¨here and now¨when I was physically in fast forward, but mentally in reverse? How can such different places and such different experiences all be real? Am I really fullfilling my goal of finding a sense of reality when every day is so different? Well all I can say is thank goodness for long bus rides and aimless wandering; without hindsight, I would never understand any of this.
Let´s take El Bolson and Esquel for example. These two towns in Northern Patagonia are only 120km apart (roughly 50 miles). But within these 120 km, there is a drastic change. As you head south from El Bolson (in Rio Negro Province) to Esquel (in Chubut), the landscape shifts as the forests deminish, the valleys widen, and the mountains become more arid. More impressively, there is a visible cultural difference between the lifestyles and priorities of each town. Two towns, so close to each other, each offer a distinct version of reality.
El Bolson is the self-proclaimed home of magic and nature. For the guidebooks, it is the ¨hippie capital¨of Argentina. Here, people live in community with themselves and with their surroundings. While in El Bolson, I stayed with a Chilean woman who has traveled around South America working with indigenous populations. When the time came to slow down and settle in a community, she chose El Bolson because everyone is ¨on the same level.¨ As she stated, ¨there is a certain mirador (a look) in everyone´s eye.¨ They share a vibrant spark, an appreciation for beauty. It really is a wonderful community. People really live here. They create from what is around them--which explains all of the artisons--and they share with those nearby. I enjoyed my time there, and I learned a lot about living passionately and sustainably in community. However, I still felt somewhat unfullfilled, as if what I was watching and what I was experiencing was predictable and ubiquitous. I found it beautiful and fascinating in the same way that all ¨hippie meccas¨are beautiful and fascinating. It is like their culture and way of life transcends politically constructed borders. I could have been on Church Street in Burlington or in Boulder, Colorado. And while I enjoy these places in small doses, I just don´t see myself settling in a community like this. Each time, I learn something new about the world and about myself, but I know I will take what I learn and apply it to a life in a different type of community.
Esquel, on the other hand, offered a completely different concept of reality--one that is much more comparable to the small town American Dream of the 1950´s than the free spirit of Haight-Ashbury. People hold jobs as construction workers, psychologists, nurses, and store owners. The clean and orderly streets are lined not by hostels and adventure stores, but by shoe shops and hair salons. People fight the mines not because it will destroy the environment (although that is part of their objection), but because it would polute the water and harm their families. The twenty-somethings have families and strolers rather than dreadlocks and bongos. The town participates economically and politically with the greater nation of Argentina, rather than spiritually and environmentally with the greater Mother Earth. And although the people of Esquel were not as welcoming as those in El Bolson, they were equally friendly; the difference is that to them I am an obvious outsider whose presense has no real bearing on their life. And despite my sundress-wearing, bear-foot walking, nature-loving persona, I feel far more comfortable and connected to a place like Esquel.
So there it is...an example of how two different places, experienced during the same week, can both offer a version of the real world. I was fortunate enough to experience them both through my own eyes and alongside the eyes of people from each place. My reflection provides an image of how each of these places are indeed real, and how I am beginning to understand which version of reality I prefer to experience.
Let´s take El Bolson and Esquel for example. These two towns in Northern Patagonia are only 120km apart (roughly 50 miles). But within these 120 km, there is a drastic change. As you head south from El Bolson (in Rio Negro Province) to Esquel (in Chubut), the landscape shifts as the forests deminish, the valleys widen, and the mountains become more arid. More impressively, there is a visible cultural difference between the lifestyles and priorities of each town. Two towns, so close to each other, each offer a distinct version of reality.
El Bolson is the self-proclaimed home of magic and nature. For the guidebooks, it is the ¨hippie capital¨of Argentina. Here, people live in community with themselves and with their surroundings. While in El Bolson, I stayed with a Chilean woman who has traveled around South America working with indigenous populations. When the time came to slow down and settle in a community, she chose El Bolson because everyone is ¨on the same level.¨ As she stated, ¨there is a certain mirador (a look) in everyone´s eye.¨ They share a vibrant spark, an appreciation for beauty. It really is a wonderful community. People really live here. They create from what is around them--which explains all of the artisons--and they share with those nearby. I enjoyed my time there, and I learned a lot about living passionately and sustainably in community. However, I still felt somewhat unfullfilled, as if what I was watching and what I was experiencing was predictable and ubiquitous. I found it beautiful and fascinating in the same way that all ¨hippie meccas¨are beautiful and fascinating. It is like their culture and way of life transcends politically constructed borders. I could have been on Church Street in Burlington or in Boulder, Colorado. And while I enjoy these places in small doses, I just don´t see myself settling in a community like this. Each time, I learn something new about the world and about myself, but I know I will take what I learn and apply it to a life in a different type of community.
Esquel, on the other hand, offered a completely different concept of reality--one that is much more comparable to the small town American Dream of the 1950´s than the free spirit of Haight-Ashbury. People hold jobs as construction workers, psychologists, nurses, and store owners. The clean and orderly streets are lined not by hostels and adventure stores, but by shoe shops and hair salons. People fight the mines not because it will destroy the environment (although that is part of their objection), but because it would polute the water and harm their families. The twenty-somethings have families and strolers rather than dreadlocks and bongos. The town participates economically and politically with the greater nation of Argentina, rather than spiritually and environmentally with the greater Mother Earth. And although the people of Esquel were not as welcoming as those in El Bolson, they were equally friendly; the difference is that to them I am an obvious outsider whose presense has no real bearing on their life. And despite my sundress-wearing, bear-foot walking, nature-loving persona, I feel far more comfortable and connected to a place like Esquel.
So there it is...an example of how two different places, experienced during the same week, can both offer a version of the real world. I was fortunate enough to experience them both through my own eyes and alongside the eyes of people from each place. My reflection provides an image of how each of these places are indeed real, and how I am beginning to understand which version of reality I prefer to experience.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
What I Miss (Thursday January 6--Day 58)
1. American Football
2. Peanut Butter
3. Oversized cotton hoodies
4. Pool
2. Peanut Butter
3. Oversized cotton hoodies
4. Pool
Urban Permaculture (Tuesday January 4--Day 56)
I have just spent the past few days in El Bolson, a small town outside of Bariloche, with a woman named Blanca Rosa who I found through WWOOFing. She has an urban garden as well as an eco-construction project. To raise money, she sells seeds, plantlings, and windchimes at the local markets, and she runs a hostel out of her house. She has worked around South America with many tribal cultures. She has smile lines, and loves living in a community filled with people who all share the same look in their eye. Now, she lives in a town whose motto is ¨Nature and Magic.¨ Lovely. Here are some of the many lessons I learned in just a few days.
-Optimization of space is the key to any urban garden. To have a succesful garden on limitted space, one must mix crops wisely depending on roots and leaves, and depending upon compatability.
-Recycling can be a fun hobby. For Blanca, she considers her form of recycling to be a game. ¨Hay que disfrutar la vida.¨ ¨You have to enjoy life.¨ Blanca collects old bottles and cans and uses them for her home. Plastic bottles are used for insulation in the eco-construction project and glass bottles are used for walls in her urban garden. Everyone in the town knows her has that woman who recycles or as that woman who protests on behalf of the land.
-Some people believe that crystals placed strategically in your garden bring life to your crops.
-Using barro (a combination of sand, clay, protein, water, and hay) is better for the environment and for your home. It breaths, so fresh air can circulate throughout your house, but it also maintains the temperature. It can be made with different proportions, so it is important to play around and find one that works for your circumstance. It is better to use barro than cement because of the negative effects of making cement on the environment (it has to be heated to a very high temperature).
-The most eco-friendly construction projects use what is available near their homes. If you live in the woods, use wood. If you live near clay, use clay. If you live near rocks, use rocks.
-Living roof. Put dirt and plant grass or flowers on your earth. For one, this will help maintain the temperature of your house because most heat is gained and lost through the roof. Also, it is a way to ensure that you are not taking away from the land. The planet, in a sense, has to breath. But if buildings and pavement cover all of the grass, there is less plant-life and soil to recycle the air and clean the earth. So put the plants on your roof, and it is as if you haven´t stolen anything.
-If possible, and even if it is illegal, find a way to recycle your water from your sinks and showers to your gardens and plants.
-Those pine trees I have been nostalgically admiring for the past few days are invasive species in the Lake District and are slowly taking over the land previously occupied by native tree species.
-Lavender is a great insecticide, so you should surround your garden with this flower.
-Put a small pond of water in the middle of your garden. That way, the air will ideally be filled with water evaporate from this pond, and will therefore not take as much water from the plants.
-The 5 plants that the Mayans used in their gardens because of association: corn, beans, pumpkins (cover the soil to protect it from evaporation), tomatos, and peppers (insecticide).
-Don´t be afraid to experiment with different varieties of plants to find out which grows best in your climate. Blanca has 6 different types of corn, and she will share her results with neighbors so everyone benifits.
-The Argentinan government is beginning to really support family farms, and has created a sub-section of the Department of Agriculture to deal primarily with protecting the rights and creating networks of family farms.
-Separate colliflower and brocolli, because they will eventually mix and form a plant that won´t produce seeds. So while each is flowering, cover it with a plastic bag to protect the other crop from cross-polinization. This is mostly important if you wish to collect your own seeds to use in your garden for next year.
-Eat most of your plants while ripe, but let some go to seed so you can collect, clean, and dry them for next year.
-Community gardens do exist here in Argentina. They are known as Ässociatives¨.
-Herbs all impact the body differently, and can be used in a variety of ways depending on what you need. Mint is used to relax, for decongestion, or as a diuretic. Dandilions can be eaten to improve digestion or to rid of anxiety. Juniper is wonderful for muscle pains or as an antiseptic. Lavender can cure coughs over a period of days.
-If made with care and knowledge, windchimes are more than just random noise. They can be made to create chords and notes, such that each person forms a connection with a specific windchime not for how it looks but because its music envokes a certain emotion within you.Chakras are music from a higher level than moves our soul, and every person has to find their own particular tone.
-Community matters. We need not live alone nor fight alone. Do what you can to support your community by sharing and embracing the individual talents and efforts of your neighbors.
-5 part dough: 1 egg, 1 cup of harina, 1 table spoon of water, 1 table spoon of oil or butter, and a touch of salt.
-The triangle is the most basic of shapes. From this, everything else is formed.
-Craft fairs are very interesting from the other side of the table.
-Collect your garbage wisely. It is possible to just have one garbage bag every month. Compost the organic things. Burn your paper. Collect dry plastic to send to the recycling place. And throw away the rest.
-Any good home-owner does a daily walk-about their property and notes and fixes anything that is out of place. That way, the home is maintained easilly over time.
I know there was more. I´ll keep adding on to this list. What a wonderful and unexpected surprise these past few days were.
-Optimization of space is the key to any urban garden. To have a succesful garden on limitted space, one must mix crops wisely depending on roots and leaves, and depending upon compatability.
-Recycling can be a fun hobby. For Blanca, she considers her form of recycling to be a game. ¨Hay que disfrutar la vida.¨ ¨You have to enjoy life.¨ Blanca collects old bottles and cans and uses them for her home. Plastic bottles are used for insulation in the eco-construction project and glass bottles are used for walls in her urban garden. Everyone in the town knows her has that woman who recycles or as that woman who protests on behalf of the land.
-Some people believe that crystals placed strategically in your garden bring life to your crops.
-Using barro (a combination of sand, clay, protein, water, and hay) is better for the environment and for your home. It breaths, so fresh air can circulate throughout your house, but it also maintains the temperature. It can be made with different proportions, so it is important to play around and find one that works for your circumstance. It is better to use barro than cement because of the negative effects of making cement on the environment (it has to be heated to a very high temperature).
-The most eco-friendly construction projects use what is available near their homes. If you live in the woods, use wood. If you live near clay, use clay. If you live near rocks, use rocks.
-Living roof. Put dirt and plant grass or flowers on your earth. For one, this will help maintain the temperature of your house because most heat is gained and lost through the roof. Also, it is a way to ensure that you are not taking away from the land. The planet, in a sense, has to breath. But if buildings and pavement cover all of the grass, there is less plant-life and soil to recycle the air and clean the earth. So put the plants on your roof, and it is as if you haven´t stolen anything.
-If possible, and even if it is illegal, find a way to recycle your water from your sinks and showers to your gardens and plants.
-Those pine trees I have been nostalgically admiring for the past few days are invasive species in the Lake District and are slowly taking over the land previously occupied by native tree species.
-Lavender is a great insecticide, so you should surround your garden with this flower.
-Put a small pond of water in the middle of your garden. That way, the air will ideally be filled with water evaporate from this pond, and will therefore not take as much water from the plants.
-The 5 plants that the Mayans used in their gardens because of association: corn, beans, pumpkins (cover the soil to protect it from evaporation), tomatos, and peppers (insecticide).
-Don´t be afraid to experiment with different varieties of plants to find out which grows best in your climate. Blanca has 6 different types of corn, and she will share her results with neighbors so everyone benifits.
-The Argentinan government is beginning to really support family farms, and has created a sub-section of the Department of Agriculture to deal primarily with protecting the rights and creating networks of family farms.
-Separate colliflower and brocolli, because they will eventually mix and form a plant that won´t produce seeds. So while each is flowering, cover it with a plastic bag to protect the other crop from cross-polinization. This is mostly important if you wish to collect your own seeds to use in your garden for next year.
-Eat most of your plants while ripe, but let some go to seed so you can collect, clean, and dry them for next year.
-Community gardens do exist here in Argentina. They are known as Ässociatives¨.
-Herbs all impact the body differently, and can be used in a variety of ways depending on what you need. Mint is used to relax, for decongestion, or as a diuretic. Dandilions can be eaten to improve digestion or to rid of anxiety. Juniper is wonderful for muscle pains or as an antiseptic. Lavender can cure coughs over a period of days.
-If made with care and knowledge, windchimes are more than just random noise. They can be made to create chords and notes, such that each person forms a connection with a specific windchime not for how it looks but because its music envokes a certain emotion within you.Chakras are music from a higher level than moves our soul, and every person has to find their own particular tone.
-Community matters. We need not live alone nor fight alone. Do what you can to support your community by sharing and embracing the individual talents and efforts of your neighbors.
-5 part dough: 1 egg, 1 cup of harina, 1 table spoon of water, 1 table spoon of oil or butter, and a touch of salt.
-The triangle is the most basic of shapes. From this, everything else is formed.
-Craft fairs are very interesting from the other side of the table.
-Collect your garbage wisely. It is possible to just have one garbage bag every month. Compost the organic things. Burn your paper. Collect dry plastic to send to the recycling place. And throw away the rest.
-Any good home-owner does a daily walk-about their property and notes and fixes anything that is out of place. That way, the home is maintained easilly over time.
I know there was more. I´ll keep adding on to this list. What a wonderful and unexpected surprise these past few days were.
La Identidad (Thursday December 30th--Day 51)
Traveling by yourself for extensive periods means that you will inevitably spend a lot of time alone in public. Yes, a traveler meets people and forms relationships of various degrees. But essentially, they spend a lot of time in their own head. For many people, this intense personal relationship may result in their own self-destruction; however, it can also provide an advantageous opportunity for personal growth and self-reflection. For me, one of the effects of this ¨me time¨ has been a newly formulated concept of identity.
Identity--even for the most secure individual--is difficult to define. Every person is complicated. They contradict themselves, and their personalities and their priotitees shift as circumstances change. Who you are at work is not who you are at home. Who you are with your partner is not who you are with your parents. I am one being, but I contain multitudes. By no means is this a new theory. Identity is contextual. On a more controversial note--and to the dismay of the most independent and power-hungry of people--I would also argue that a person´s identity is not entirely his own to decide. While you can actively and passively create and display a persona, who you are depends largely upon how others view you. We all know this subconsciouslly. That´s why consumerism and vanity run rampant in cities, and why public actions and outward displays of one´s inward personality form the base of our personal character. To some degree, the opinions of others matter.
So if my identity, then, depends so much upon outward sources--both circumstantial context and the thoughts of outsiders--then what makes my identity mine? Don´t worry, you are not entirely unresponsable. You can still play the leading role in the development and display of your own identity if you are critical enough to understand your surroundings and self-aware enough to know how your presense is projected and received. Traveling can be a great, albeit exhausting, opportunity to strengthen your understanding and yourcontrol of your personal identity. Because the context and the audience is constantly changing, the traveler has the rare chance to test the range of his personality and to formulate a constant, core concept of self.
I´ll use myself as an example (afterall, it´s my blog and my ego). Right now, at this moment in my life, I am defined by two major identities: one personal and the other collective. At the base, I am a young, single woman. I am both curious and content--a seemingly paradoxical combination that keeps me always in motion yet happy to be standing still. I am both grateful and gracious for every day and for every experience, and I grow frustrated by those who cannot see the wonder that surrounds them. I believe you have the power to choose your attitude if you are able to be fully present here and now. I work hard, and I am proud of what my body and mind are capable of achieving. I love the way mountains make me feel like I am part of something larger, but I am having trouble reconciling the fact that my place as a young professional may be in an inner city. I don´t like sharing my space or my feelings, and I am continuously struggling to maintain this blog (although you would never know by how verbose I can be). I like people, but prefer them in small quantities or at a distance. I am a daughter, and I am a best friend. I am selfish, and I am generous. I am kind, and I can be hurtful. I am a person of extreme action, and I am a person of moderate personality. I contain contradictions, and I am an enigma.
While this is the persona I most identify with on the inside, it is not the most prominent identity for a traveler. To the majority of people I meet, I am first and foremost an American. ¿De dónde viene? Where are you from? It´s the first question people ask you, and in many cases it may be the only detail they remember. For me, I have taken this opportunity to embrace my nationality and accept it as one of the many elements that defines me. As an American, I am someone who loves my country and wants nothing more than to gain enough international experience so I can return to the United States and utilize what I have learned. I believe in the generosity and work-ethic of the American people, but I would like to see a shift in how we interact with our government and with each other. Individualism makes strong people, but weak communities. I am terrified by consumerism and technology dependence because I believe it destroys our ability to connect with each other on a deep personal level. I am mortified by the historical and current role we play abroad, and wish we could start focusing our time, money, and efforts inward. If we as a country could realize that we are neither perfect nor all-powerful, we could lower our guard and our ego just enough to learn from other countries and to make real improvements to our own nation. I believe in our president, and am deeply saddened by the constant uphill battle he must fight against those diametrically opposed to anything he does. That being said, I believe that nothing positive and lasting will ever happen unless people (myself included) stop being so disenchanted by government and start interacting with this faceless body on the community level. I am a citizen, and I am a tax-payer. I have hope and faith, and I have ideas and theories. I am a passive observer, and an active contributer. I am proud, and I am ashamed. I fit the stereotype, yet I break the mold. I am an American.
While these two personas are different, they are not mutually exclusive, and the most difficult task I have is learning how to portray them both. I have a responsability to myself to display the persona I most relate to--that quirky, wide-eyed individual. Yet I also have a responsability to my country to put a friendly face to a large overbearing distant country, to rectify those strong devisive negative stereotypes, and to share with people what I love about my home. The question is, is it possible to accurately display both identities without one overpowering the other? I think so. But to do this, and to do this well, I have to once again be critical of my surroundings and self aware of my personality. I have to realize that I am always on stage. Every action I take is available for judgement. Every interaction I have can alter the perception of another individual. This is a lot of pressure, but such is the self-inflicted life of a conscious traveler. Besides, it couldn´t hurt to reflect a little about who I am, about what my relationship is to the world, and about what image I wish to portray. For me, I often have trouble being self-aware without being too self-conscious. Americans have the international reputation of being loud, self-interested, and dominating. We talk too much about ourselves, and only listen for keywords in conversations as we wait to interject our own personal story that--true or ficticious--will one-up whatever the other person just stated. This is our reputation, and it doesn´t take a rocket scientist to realize that this stereotype is firmly based in reality. Whether abroad or in the states, many conversations often have this overbearing, competitive tone. I have noticed it for years, which is why in many cases I often resort to silence. But silence is not always the best option, especially when the other individuals (traveler, Argentinian, or fellow American alike) are just as curious about my experiences and opinions as I am of theirs. As an individual and as an American, I have been blessed with life-changing experiences, with a strong educational background, and with opinions that have weight and spark interest. Rather than silently stand by in fear of fitting a stereotype, I ought to participate in the cultural exchange and mutual learning. In order to do so, I must understand my identity as an individual and as an American. Only then can I can find the balence between being self-aware and self-conscious.Only then can I slowly begin to formulate an identity that is both lasting and changing, that is both contextual and constant, that is displayed and perceived in similar ways.
Identity--even for the most secure individual--is difficult to define. Every person is complicated. They contradict themselves, and their personalities and their priotitees shift as circumstances change. Who you are at work is not who you are at home. Who you are with your partner is not who you are with your parents. I am one being, but I contain multitudes. By no means is this a new theory. Identity is contextual. On a more controversial note--and to the dismay of the most independent and power-hungry of people--I would also argue that a person´s identity is not entirely his own to decide. While you can actively and passively create and display a persona, who you are depends largely upon how others view you. We all know this subconsciouslly. That´s why consumerism and vanity run rampant in cities, and why public actions and outward displays of one´s inward personality form the base of our personal character. To some degree, the opinions of others matter.
So if my identity, then, depends so much upon outward sources--both circumstantial context and the thoughts of outsiders--then what makes my identity mine? Don´t worry, you are not entirely unresponsable. You can still play the leading role in the development and display of your own identity if you are critical enough to understand your surroundings and self-aware enough to know how your presense is projected and received. Traveling can be a great, albeit exhausting, opportunity to strengthen your understanding and yourcontrol of your personal identity. Because the context and the audience is constantly changing, the traveler has the rare chance to test the range of his personality and to formulate a constant, core concept of self.
I´ll use myself as an example (afterall, it´s my blog and my ego). Right now, at this moment in my life, I am defined by two major identities: one personal and the other collective. At the base, I am a young, single woman. I am both curious and content--a seemingly paradoxical combination that keeps me always in motion yet happy to be standing still. I am both grateful and gracious for every day and for every experience, and I grow frustrated by those who cannot see the wonder that surrounds them. I believe you have the power to choose your attitude if you are able to be fully present here and now. I work hard, and I am proud of what my body and mind are capable of achieving. I love the way mountains make me feel like I am part of something larger, but I am having trouble reconciling the fact that my place as a young professional may be in an inner city. I don´t like sharing my space or my feelings, and I am continuously struggling to maintain this blog (although you would never know by how verbose I can be). I like people, but prefer them in small quantities or at a distance. I am a daughter, and I am a best friend. I am selfish, and I am generous. I am kind, and I can be hurtful. I am a person of extreme action, and I am a person of moderate personality. I contain contradictions, and I am an enigma.
While this is the persona I most identify with on the inside, it is not the most prominent identity for a traveler. To the majority of people I meet, I am first and foremost an American. ¿De dónde viene? Where are you from? It´s the first question people ask you, and in many cases it may be the only detail they remember. For me, I have taken this opportunity to embrace my nationality and accept it as one of the many elements that defines me. As an American, I am someone who loves my country and wants nothing more than to gain enough international experience so I can return to the United States and utilize what I have learned. I believe in the generosity and work-ethic of the American people, but I would like to see a shift in how we interact with our government and with each other. Individualism makes strong people, but weak communities. I am terrified by consumerism and technology dependence because I believe it destroys our ability to connect with each other on a deep personal level. I am mortified by the historical and current role we play abroad, and wish we could start focusing our time, money, and efforts inward. If we as a country could realize that we are neither perfect nor all-powerful, we could lower our guard and our ego just enough to learn from other countries and to make real improvements to our own nation. I believe in our president, and am deeply saddened by the constant uphill battle he must fight against those diametrically opposed to anything he does. That being said, I believe that nothing positive and lasting will ever happen unless people (myself included) stop being so disenchanted by government and start interacting with this faceless body on the community level. I am a citizen, and I am a tax-payer. I have hope and faith, and I have ideas and theories. I am a passive observer, and an active contributer. I am proud, and I am ashamed. I fit the stereotype, yet I break the mold. I am an American.
While these two personas are different, they are not mutually exclusive, and the most difficult task I have is learning how to portray them both. I have a responsability to myself to display the persona I most relate to--that quirky, wide-eyed individual. Yet I also have a responsability to my country to put a friendly face to a large overbearing distant country, to rectify those strong devisive negative stereotypes, and to share with people what I love about my home. The question is, is it possible to accurately display both identities without one overpowering the other? I think so. But to do this, and to do this well, I have to once again be critical of my surroundings and self aware of my personality. I have to realize that I am always on stage. Every action I take is available for judgement. Every interaction I have can alter the perception of another individual. This is a lot of pressure, but such is the self-inflicted life of a conscious traveler. Besides, it couldn´t hurt to reflect a little about who I am, about what my relationship is to the world, and about what image I wish to portray. For me, I often have trouble being self-aware without being too self-conscious. Americans have the international reputation of being loud, self-interested, and dominating. We talk too much about ourselves, and only listen for keywords in conversations as we wait to interject our own personal story that--true or ficticious--will one-up whatever the other person just stated. This is our reputation, and it doesn´t take a rocket scientist to realize that this stereotype is firmly based in reality. Whether abroad or in the states, many conversations often have this overbearing, competitive tone. I have noticed it for years, which is why in many cases I often resort to silence. But silence is not always the best option, especially when the other individuals (traveler, Argentinian, or fellow American alike) are just as curious about my experiences and opinions as I am of theirs. As an individual and as an American, I have been blessed with life-changing experiences, with a strong educational background, and with opinions that have weight and spark interest. Rather than silently stand by in fear of fitting a stereotype, I ought to participate in the cultural exchange and mutual learning. In order to do so, I must understand my identity as an individual and as an American. Only then can I can find the balence between being self-aware and self-conscious.Only then can I slowly begin to formulate an identity that is both lasting and changing, that is both contextual and constant, that is displayed and perceived in similar ways.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Sur de Argentina: Is this REALLY Argentina (Tuesday December 28th--Day 49)
I used to make this same mistake in school. Before researching a subject, I would already know the answer I was looking for. My methodology was narrowed, my research was cloudy, and my results were slightly biased and somewhat predictable. This is natural and nearly impossible to overcome. But that doesn´t make it okay. And here, in Patagonia, I have found myself repeating the same error. I wanted to badly to find Argentina in the South. I wanted so badly to see something the others hadn´t. I wanted so badly to justify my trip south as I had justified my time spent in the North. Preconceptions aside, I had found that this question of authenticity is much more complicated than I had thought and the answer is far more layered than I expected.So after two weeks, three towns, fifty hours of buses, and a handful of coffeeshops...I have only more thoughts to further blur the discussion.
Basically, in order to decide if Southern Argentina is, in fact, still Argentina, it makes sense that we ought to first define our control variable. Argentina. This is impossible. If you ask a group of Americans to define the United States, you are going to receive a variety of answers. It´s a plot of conquered land. It´s a concept of freedom and democracy. It´s big cars and designer jeans. It´s football and cowboys. It´s individualism and work ethic. It´s the dream of change and personal growth. It´s imperialism at its best. So I, as one person, an outsider to this country, cannot possibly define Argentina. But all theories are solidly built upon somewhat arbitrary bases...so here it goes. Argentina: a name, a language, a space, a growing economy, a young educated population, a culture of family, a catholic stronghold, and a love of soccer. This definition, developed from my time spent on the north, my conversations with people, and my understanding of current events, is rather easy to support in the north. Here, in Patagonia, it´s a little harder. However, because I spent more days that necesary by typical tourist standards in each town, I have been able to slow down my movement, explore beyond the major attractions, and see into the real life that does exist here in Southern Argentina.
A name. The argentina government does a wonderful job putting its name on the projects it has completed. Rightfully so. It has done a great job. Public spaces. Parks. Construction sites. Public works. New schools. These signs were present in the North, and they are here in the south as well. ¨Here too a nation is growing.¨ ¨Santa Cruz municipality is working for you.¨ Ärgentina National Park Service.¨ And just as the Argentina flag flew high in each town and proudly from most windows, here too the banner waves (although it is often accompanied by the state flag as well, which I had not seen before Patagonia).
A language. This one is a bit harder, and a lot more frustrating for someone wanting to speak Spanish. If you spend all your time in the South in hostels and on excurions, you will rarely hear Spanish. Many foreigners don´t even bother attempting, because they just don´t have to. But you really don´t need to go far out of your way to hear and speak the language. Waiters, guides, receptionists, and strangers will be more than happy to speak Castellano rather than English. You just have to make the first move. True, I am not discussion the range of topics that I did in the North. However, Spanish is still prominent and will most likely remain so.
A big space. North. South. Center. This country is a continuation of one big open space (with the exception of B.A., of course, which is just big). The mountains and forests of Patagonia are different than the central Pampas and Northern deserts. But any big country is bound to include multiple types of landscapes and climates. Just look at the variety in the States. What unites Argentina´s countryside is the grandeur of the area and the vastness of the space.
A growing economy. Read the news. Talk to the ever-enlarging middle class. Overhear the complaints of tourists about how the prices have tripled in the last three years. While the rest of the world is crashing, Argentina is doing pretty well for itself. Towns are growing. Public works are well underway. And while certain parts are more finantially stable, both the North and South are feeling the impacts of this economic prosperity.
A young educated population. I noticed it a lot in Cordoba, Albardon, and the other towns I passed through. There are a lot of young people in Argentina. I imagine that the 5-25 age group dominates the population, which means that the future of Argentina will have to account for a lot more jobs and houses. The government knows this, which is why improving the education system is such an important and pervasive initiative. 1000 new schools within six years. A laptop for every child. National free wifi. To Argentina, an educated and hard working population is the key to a positive future. Patagonia definitely has a lot more middle aged individuals than I have seen elsewhere, but it is not lacking in youth. About half of the twenty-somethings with whom I spoke have left their homes in Patagonia to study elsewhere but then returned to this place that they love; the other half are from elsewhere but have come here to find work and live in the beautiful countryside, much like many of us east-coasters migrate west. Although I have no information on the few small towns in central Patagonia, I would assume (based on the previous attempts of government to modernize and civilize the gauchos) that they too have a decent education system. So this appears pretty standard accross the country.
A culture of family. I was fortunate enough to be in Patagonia during Christmas, so displays of family affection was public and prominent. True, holidays always exacerbate family ties. But in this case, I think the holidays simply brought these relationships to the forefront, rather than increase their intensity. I watched parents bring their children to see Santa at the local town hall. I saw family members visiting loved ones who had to work in restaurants and hotels on the 25th. I saw generations come together in homes to celebrate the holidays together. Family still holds strong.
A Catholic strong hold. While this was very apparent in the North, I haven´t noticed it as much here. Everything is open on Sundays and I don´t get asked on a weekly basis if I believe in Jesus. But we are in a tourist-heavy location, so that may just be a good business model. There still is a church in every town and nearly everyone wears a crucifix around their neck. So I´m sure religion still holds strong here. I could look harder, but we´ll let this one remain undetermined.
Love for soccer. Clubes de futbol are in everytown. Kids play on the streets. People gather in restaurants and homes to watch games. It´s here. It´s Argentina.
I think my point is that if you spend enough time in any place, you are bound to notice what´s really going on. It takes time and a somewhat conscious effort, but it is possible to see the human realness of this beautiful place. Patagonia may be a place for the world, but at its core Patagonia is in Argentina.
Basically, in order to decide if Southern Argentina is, in fact, still Argentina, it makes sense that we ought to first define our control variable. Argentina. This is impossible. If you ask a group of Americans to define the United States, you are going to receive a variety of answers. It´s a plot of conquered land. It´s a concept of freedom and democracy. It´s big cars and designer jeans. It´s football and cowboys. It´s individualism and work ethic. It´s the dream of change and personal growth. It´s imperialism at its best. So I, as one person, an outsider to this country, cannot possibly define Argentina. But all theories are solidly built upon somewhat arbitrary bases...so here it goes. Argentina: a name, a language, a space, a growing economy, a young educated population, a culture of family, a catholic stronghold, and a love of soccer. This definition, developed from my time spent on the north, my conversations with people, and my understanding of current events, is rather easy to support in the north. Here, in Patagonia, it´s a little harder. However, because I spent more days that necesary by typical tourist standards in each town, I have been able to slow down my movement, explore beyond the major attractions, and see into the real life that does exist here in Southern Argentina.
A name. The argentina government does a wonderful job putting its name on the projects it has completed. Rightfully so. It has done a great job. Public spaces. Parks. Construction sites. Public works. New schools. These signs were present in the North, and they are here in the south as well. ¨Here too a nation is growing.¨ ¨Santa Cruz municipality is working for you.¨ Ärgentina National Park Service.¨ And just as the Argentina flag flew high in each town and proudly from most windows, here too the banner waves (although it is often accompanied by the state flag as well, which I had not seen before Patagonia).
A language. This one is a bit harder, and a lot more frustrating for someone wanting to speak Spanish. If you spend all your time in the South in hostels and on excurions, you will rarely hear Spanish. Many foreigners don´t even bother attempting, because they just don´t have to. But you really don´t need to go far out of your way to hear and speak the language. Waiters, guides, receptionists, and strangers will be more than happy to speak Castellano rather than English. You just have to make the first move. True, I am not discussion the range of topics that I did in the North. However, Spanish is still prominent and will most likely remain so.
A big space. North. South. Center. This country is a continuation of one big open space (with the exception of B.A., of course, which is just big). The mountains and forests of Patagonia are different than the central Pampas and Northern deserts. But any big country is bound to include multiple types of landscapes and climates. Just look at the variety in the States. What unites Argentina´s countryside is the grandeur of the area and the vastness of the space.
A growing economy. Read the news. Talk to the ever-enlarging middle class. Overhear the complaints of tourists about how the prices have tripled in the last three years. While the rest of the world is crashing, Argentina is doing pretty well for itself. Towns are growing. Public works are well underway. And while certain parts are more finantially stable, both the North and South are feeling the impacts of this economic prosperity.
A young educated population. I noticed it a lot in Cordoba, Albardon, and the other towns I passed through. There are a lot of young people in Argentina. I imagine that the 5-25 age group dominates the population, which means that the future of Argentina will have to account for a lot more jobs and houses. The government knows this, which is why improving the education system is such an important and pervasive initiative. 1000 new schools within six years. A laptop for every child. National free wifi. To Argentina, an educated and hard working population is the key to a positive future. Patagonia definitely has a lot more middle aged individuals than I have seen elsewhere, but it is not lacking in youth. About half of the twenty-somethings with whom I spoke have left their homes in Patagonia to study elsewhere but then returned to this place that they love; the other half are from elsewhere but have come here to find work and live in the beautiful countryside, much like many of us east-coasters migrate west. Although I have no information on the few small towns in central Patagonia, I would assume (based on the previous attempts of government to modernize and civilize the gauchos) that they too have a decent education system. So this appears pretty standard accross the country.
A culture of family. I was fortunate enough to be in Patagonia during Christmas, so displays of family affection was public and prominent. True, holidays always exacerbate family ties. But in this case, I think the holidays simply brought these relationships to the forefront, rather than increase their intensity. I watched parents bring their children to see Santa at the local town hall. I saw family members visiting loved ones who had to work in restaurants and hotels on the 25th. I saw generations come together in homes to celebrate the holidays together. Family still holds strong.
A Catholic strong hold. While this was very apparent in the North, I haven´t noticed it as much here. Everything is open on Sundays and I don´t get asked on a weekly basis if I believe in Jesus. But we are in a tourist-heavy location, so that may just be a good business model. There still is a church in every town and nearly everyone wears a crucifix around their neck. So I´m sure religion still holds strong here. I could look harder, but we´ll let this one remain undetermined.
Love for soccer. Clubes de futbol are in everytown. Kids play on the streets. People gather in restaurants and homes to watch games. It´s here. It´s Argentina.
I think my point is that if you spend enough time in any place, you are bound to notice what´s really going on. It takes time and a somewhat conscious effort, but it is possible to see the human realness of this beautiful place. Patagonia may be a place for the world, but at its core Patagonia is in Argentina.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The unexplainable El Chaten (Monday December 27th--Day 48)
I´ve given this a fair amount of thought. I spent the last five days walking and sleeping--I´ve had time. But I can´t think of a blog entry that would properly capture the spirit of El Chalten. El Chalten, a small mountain town about two hours north of El Calafate, is located in the northern section of Parque Los Glacieres, nestled between a raging river and a series of looming peaks. Unlike El Calafate, which lies 100km away from the park´s sites and attractions, El Chalten is right in the heart of the fun. You need not pay for overpriced tours or elaborate excursions. You need only leave your front door and stroll through town to the desired trailhead. In this place, the national capital of trekking, you walk.
So when in Rome, I walked. And walked. And walked. There are trails leading to mountain tops with panaramic views of the daunting Fitz Roy Range. There are trails leading to glacier lagoons, nestled deep within mountain valleyes and fed by enormous blue glaciers. There are trails leading through dense forests where--free from the fear of bears--you can stroll nonchallantly and lose yourself to the sounds and smells of the woods. There are trails leading to boulder fields peppered with giant rocks left behind by slowly lurking glaciers. There are trails following river beds running with cool, crisp, refreshing glacier water. There are trails leading to waterfalls, to clouds, to rainbows, to everything.
So I walked. I can´t really explain what I saw or more importantly what I experienced. There are no advertisements or salespeople feeding me words to regurgetate to you. There are no photos I can take (especially with my camera that doesn´t zoom) that can show the sites I have seen. There are only my senses and my thoughts that developed over the countless hours of being simultaneously lost in my own head and connected to my surroundings. Usually (and I give some credit to the fact that I was sick and hopped up on sudafed) I felt like I was dreaming. I was at a loss for how to react to what I was experiencing. Humility. Shock. Amazement. Most of the time, I laughed uncontrollably or gawked silently. One of the two. I spent my time in awe, trying my best to actively create a memory of the moment, thanking my body for giving me this oportunity, and realizing that I will never be able to relive this situation.
I want so badly to share this with you. Sort of. I´m selfish. What I do want is to possess the means to transform these memories into something explicable. But I can barely understand them. And I was there. It´s strange, I think, to be on a journey searching for some new concept of reality and stumbling upon a place where nothing seems real. But maybe that´s not counterproductive. Maybe that´s saying something about my preconceived concepts of ´realness´. Maybe the best types of reality just don´t seem real at all. Maybe.
So when in Rome, I walked. And walked. And walked. There are trails leading to mountain tops with panaramic views of the daunting Fitz Roy Range. There are trails leading to glacier lagoons, nestled deep within mountain valleyes and fed by enormous blue glaciers. There are trails leading through dense forests where--free from the fear of bears--you can stroll nonchallantly and lose yourself to the sounds and smells of the woods. There are trails leading to boulder fields peppered with giant rocks left behind by slowly lurking glaciers. There are trails following river beds running with cool, crisp, refreshing glacier water. There are trails leading to waterfalls, to clouds, to rainbows, to everything.
So I walked. I can´t really explain what I saw or more importantly what I experienced. There are no advertisements or salespeople feeding me words to regurgetate to you. There are no photos I can take (especially with my camera that doesn´t zoom) that can show the sites I have seen. There are only my senses and my thoughts that developed over the countless hours of being simultaneously lost in my own head and connected to my surroundings. Usually (and I give some credit to the fact that I was sick and hopped up on sudafed) I felt like I was dreaming. I was at a loss for how to react to what I was experiencing. Humility. Shock. Amazement. Most of the time, I laughed uncontrollably or gawked silently. One of the two. I spent my time in awe, trying my best to actively create a memory of the moment, thanking my body for giving me this oportunity, and realizing that I will never be able to relive this situation.
I want so badly to share this with you. Sort of. I´m selfish. What I do want is to possess the means to transform these memories into something explicable. But I can barely understand them. And I was there. It´s strange, I think, to be on a journey searching for some new concept of reality and stumbling upon a place where nothing seems real. But maybe that´s not counterproductive. Maybe that´s saying something about my preconceived concepts of ´realness´. Maybe the best types of reality just don´t seem real at all. Maybe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)