Sooooo….

I am leaving the United States in five…four…three…two…one days! It hasn’t really sunk in yet that I will be away from family, friends, pets, my apartment, and the US for four+ months. However, I am so excited to be heading to the UAE and the American University of Sharjah. First, I get to travel to Cairo for a couple days orientation. From there, I’ll go to Sharjah for more orientating. I’ll be there until January 18!

I’m a little nervous. I don’t really know exactly what to expect upon landing since the Middle East is so different from the United States — obviously. I had my friends come shopping with me to purchase some clothes that are more Middle East appropriate. I’ll post some pics!

I’m still pulling some last minute things together before I leave. Taking the GRE on the 31st, and going on a last-minute mini family vacay to an aquarium and to do some shopping. I haven’t even started packing yet!

Anyhow, more to come when I actually arrive in Sharjah!

Atlanta

Sorry for the long delay. Since I last posted I’ve been getting used to going to class and to handling the work load. There is definitely a lot more reading than I’m used to. Not necessarily more pages, it just takes longer since I have to spend a lot of time looking up words that I don’t know and I read slower in Spanish. I also have a bunch of small papers that I’ve been writing and I’ve had two 15 minute oral presentations. That sounds like a lot, but it hasn’t been too hard to manage. I’ve also managed to do a bit more travelling. For this post I’m going to put some pictures from where I live, because I’ve been neglecting that. I’ll also put the pictures from our  IFSA program trip to Sarchi, a place known for painting carritas, or carts that used to be used to transport goods. Here are some pictures of Santo Domingo, where I live.

Ok, the other pictures I have are from the trip to Sarchi. The carts there are hand painted in very fine patterns and we got to see the professionals paint and even try our hand at it. Take a look:

 

In a few days I’ll try to make a new post because I left my trip to Monteverde out of of this one. I have lots of pictures including several of me trying to backwards rock climb down a waterfall. It wasn’t pretty.

Pura Vida

 

Today I’ll be talking about:

I. How to catch a bus

II. How not to catch a bus

III.Vocabulario

IV. Musica

V. Links to Previous Posts

 

The buses were the thing I was most afraid of before arriving in Mendoza. Public transportation just stresses me out, always has. But the buses here are very manageable once you work it out. It’s a little chaotic–taking the bus is an art, not a science–but it’s easy enough, and it’s a fast and cheap way to get around.

 

I. How to catch a bus

 

You’ll hear all of this information at orientation, but I’ll tell you about it too.

 

First, you’re going to need to get a RedBus* card, unless you want to pay exact change for each bus ride. (And considering that change does not seem to exist in this country, you’re gonna want to get the card.) The card costs about $A 3 at almost any kiosco. There will be signs on the kiosco advertising RedBus. You can recharge that card as many times as you want—they also do that at kioscos. To use it, you just wave it in front of the sensor inside the bus. Easy.

 

The second thing, which is a bit more complicated, is to figure out which bus you need. There are two important numbers, the group number (1-9 are most common) and the bus number. The buses are also color coded: all group 3 buses are yellow, 5’s are green, etc. You can look up the bus routes (to see which numbers go where you need to go) online, but you can also ask your host family or even IFSA. I got really lucky and the last girl who stayed with my host mom left me a list of all the buses I need. Whoever stays with Susy next will also inherit that sucker! It’s been a life saver. But I’m also really excited that, after being here a month, I don’t really need it anymore.

 

Now you wait for a while. The buses are generally pretty timely (every half hour)…but it takes a little luck. The buses can arrive late, and once or twice I’ve even been on a bus that has broken down. Time to wait again. So, it never hurts to have a book on hand.

 

When you see a bus, it’s time to be aggressive, B-E aggressive! If there’s any chance it could be your bus–because the group number is large but the bus number is tiny–go fast and stick your arm out like you mean it. As in, get in the road (but don’t get run over!) GO!

 

Hop on and hang on. Try to give yourself two free hands if you can to steady yourself, because it can be a bumpy ride. Keep your purse close to you while you’re on the bus, preferably in front of you. Everyone’s heard the horror stories about bus pick pocketing.

 

When you get close to your stop (or streets you recognize) get moving to the back where the button to stop is located. Again, be fast, be aggressive. Be aware of acequias and traffic as you’re getting off.

 

Bus accomplished.

 

II. How not to catch a bus

 

The collective wisdom from my friends and me:

 

Two things you need to know:

 

1) the routes are not circles but lines. If you miss your stop, the bus will not loop back around to it eventually. It’s going to the bus depot.

 

2) WHERE you catch the bus matters, because buses go in more than one direction. Great example: when trying to get to or from Cuyo, OJO, because I know of at least three #3-33 buses, and they all go to very different places.

 

If you do get on the wrong bus, try not to panic. Some way or other, it’ll work out. If you haven’t gone very far/you see non-sketchy streets you recognize, get off and get another bus. If you’re in a scary looking part of town and have no idea where you are, DO NOT GET OFF THE BUS. Just let the bus take you to the depot. Explain your situation to the driver and they’ll help you out, especially if you look foreign and terrified.

 

Bonus tip: Try to keep an eye on your phone minutes so that, in the event of bus mishaps, you can let your host family know you’re not dead, just delayed.

 

When in doubt, ask the driver if the bus goes to/passes/goes near the street you’re trying to get to BEFORE YOU GET ON. I have seen other Argentines do it too, FYI. Everyone gets confused by the buses.

 

Most importantly, enjoy the journey. The micro system is a little confusing, but once you get the hang of it, it’s totally manageable. If you get lost, laugh it off. It happens to just about everyone eventually. Call it part of the adventure.

 

III.Vocabulario

 

*Red – network

Tarjeta – card

Parrada – bus stop

Micro = omnibus (omni for short) = colectivo

Subir – Get on

Bajar – get off

Tropezar – to trip

 

IV. Musica

Going with the theme of confusion and getting lost, pleas enjoy this song, courtesy of the one and only Jose.

 

Senal que te he perdido – Adres Calamaro

 

V. Links to Previous Posts

 

1. Antes de que me voy (Before I Leave)

2.  Host Families and Fun with Public Transportation

3. “Are You the Girl with the Blog?”

4. Playing Tourists in Buenos Aires

5. Looking Good, Mendoza!

Hello everyone!  Below are some pictures of my house.  (I didn’t take pictures of other rooms inside my house, because I didn’t want to make my host family uncomfortable.  If there is interest I can try to get some shots.)  My host family situation is a bit complicated, but I am going to do my best to explain it here.  I live with my host mom and dad, and my mom’s mom (abuela).  They have 3 children, all grown, all of whom live in adjacent houses.  My host dad has something like 9 sisters, and they all live right next door as well.  My host parents’ kids are each married and have children of their own (ages 7-17).  I refer to the actual kids, who are technically my host nieces and nephews, as my host siblings.  All the families basically live in a little village – there’s a gate, a long driveway, and all the houses share a common yard.  It is a really fun setup because there are always people around to talk to or hang out with, but I do always have the option to stay in my room if I need a little bit of peace and quiet.

People here seem to be fascinated with my last name, Kaczynski.  I thought people in the Midwest had problems spelling and pronouncing it, but that’s nothing compared to here.  The first attempt usually sounds something like “kahk-SEEN-skeee” (with very separated syllables), which is not too far off really, but it doesn’t improve after that.  My history professor was very excited about the Polishness of it, and asked me all sorts of questions, like when my parents moved to the US, what my favorite Polish foods are, and whether I can speak Polish.  I think my answers might have disappointed him just a little bit.  When we went to apply for our student visas, the visa officers processing my forms were also very amused by my last name.  They asked me how to pronounce it and repeated it multiple times until they had it more-or-less right.  Then, as they were typing in the rest of my information, they would say it to themselves and then just chuckle a little bit.  It was like the punchline of a joke, but I feel like I kind of missed the joke…or maybe I was the joke…

One VERY big cultural point here is the use of the terms “America” and “American.”  In the United States, “America” is pretty much synonymous with “United States,” and an “American” citizen is the same as a US citizen.  However, in Latin America (and I would think South America as well), if you tell someone you are American they will say, well I am too.  To them, (and personally I think this makes more sense anyway), “America” is the entire 2 continents.  There is North America, Latin/Central America, and South America, but it is all America.  Honestly, I chalk it all up to a language difference, and here’s why: in Spanish, there is a word for being from the US: estadounidense.  In English, I seriously cannot think of a word: United Statesian?  United Statesese?  There isn’t really a good way to say it in English, so we say “American.”  From a Latin-American perspective, I understand how they could interpret that to mean we think we are the only Americans, but from an English-speaker perspective, I understand that there really is no good alternative.  However, I have been trying to catch myself every time I am about to say “America” or “American” and find an alternative.

Almost every night at my house, my host mom plays cards with her sister and with abuela, and when I can I join them.  I have noticed that they tend to laugh their way through everything – dropped a plate?  whoops!  Burned the food? – shoot!  Didn’t preheat the oven? – oh well!  I had chalked up their slap-happiness to lack of sleep until last night when my host mom – mid laugh – turned to me and commented that they were crazy, right?  I agreed, and then she said something which to me was really profound: “we laugh so we don’t get old.”  I thought, wow.  She’s right.  Why be sad and tired and stressed when you could just laugh it off?

The other day, when I was walking home from the U, the sun was shining and it was raining at the same time.  The Ticos I was with told me that the saying goes in Costa Rica that when there is sun and rain at the same time, it is the Virgen de los Ángeles (the same Virgin Mary for which there was a procession to Cartago a few weeks back) smiling down on us.  Aww.

Sad fun fact:  They  most certainly do not use the Oxford comma here.  I am a big proponent of the Oxford comma.  I have gotten corrected on all my papers.  It is disappointing.

After being in Lima for two weeks, I can neither say that I am completely familiar with its public transportation system (predominately a hodgepodge of vehicles to which one could loosely apply the term ‘bus’), nor that I am particularly a large fan of it.  What I can say, without a doubt, is that I am daily at the mercy of the combi. Although “las combis” by no means share identical routes, they seem to have been created for a single purpose: to transport as many beings as humanly possible, as quickly as possible, while ensuring minimal comfort. In a world where form tends to denote function, the combi reigns supreme. Their relatively flat-frontedness, for instance, is ideally suited for tailgating at high speeds (when the obscene traffic allows for such high speeds), while the sliding windows that accompany each seat function inside and out, allowing for the perfectly timed heists of bags sitting in unsuspecting passengers’ laps by skilled Limeñan thieves. Although I, myself, have not yet been pitted against the sly hand of the Limeñan “ladrón,” or thief, I have had many an experience aboard the combi. On one particular trip back from the University, I was enjoying the fact that I was one of only 20 or so people on the ride and could actually sit semi-comfortably. The music was uncharacteristically loud and was a rather lively mix of Latino-pop. The driver, however, was particularly reckless and was nearly the cause of three separate accidents, taking the opportunity to throw his head out the window and curse at each of the other combi drivers as if it were their fault as he continued to weave in and out of traffic. At one point in particular, our “cobrador” (the person in charge of taking your fare when you board) had to get off to fix one of the mirrors that was now hanging precariously from the combi thanks to one of our “run-ins.” Ahhh the streets of Lima…a love-hate relationship if I ever have seen one.

Before this takes on a negative air, though, I must say that in a city of nearly 9 million, the combi is not only necessary, but is well adapted to serve the needs of the city’s people in a highly cost-efficient manner. For a 45 minute ride from my home in Miraflores to the University, for example, it costs me a “luca china,” or 1.50 soles. This is less than $0.60 US. In other words, it is ridiculously cheap. A taxi ride to the University is roughly 10 soles, which is less than $4 US. As in the case of the combis, there are no shortages of taxis in Lima. They circle “las calles” constantly and make up the greater proportion of the vehicles that clog up the city’s streets. In addition, they add to the cacophonous display of horns that compose a Limeñan street symphony to which not much can compare.

“Las combis” and the traffic in Lima were only some of many first impressions upon my arrival in Lima. Orientation lasted for two weeks, and I had the pleasure of getting to know 21 other “gringos” and a handful of “patas” (Peruvian students from the University with whom we are paired). On our second night here we were paired with our host families, and I have now been integrated into a family that consists of my “mamá anfitriona,” my brother José Carlos and our golden retriever Max. We also have a network of extended family that live relatively close to our house in Miraflores, with whom I have already shared many stories over dinner and pisco sours (one of the most famous “tragos,” or drinks, in Perú).

While on the subject of dinner and piscos, the food here is fantastic. Ceviche (raw fish marinated and essentially “cooked” in acidic lime juice with onions, tomatoes, and peppers), already one of my favorite dishes before coming to Perú, can be found in abundance in Lima and is some of the most delicious that I have ever tasted. Papas rellenas (fried potatoes filled with meat) and lúcuma (a local, sweet fruit that resembles an avocado with a large black seed inside) top out the list of my new favorites. I recently tried “sangre,” or curdled cow’s blood, as well. We’ll just say that didn’t make the cut.

 

 

 

 

 

Now, because I have a mountain of reading to do for classes next week,  I’ll leave you with a little photo journey of some of the stops on our orientation tours and outings…until next time, y’all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our trip to central Lima and the Plaza de Armas:

 

 

 

 

When my host mother first drove me back to our house in Mérida, I was surprised to see that there’s a 7–Eleven on the corner of the street where we live, and it’s open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. In my head I’ve been stretching this into a metaphor for my first week or so here. It’s been a mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar, constantly catching me off-guard, but in a good way!

Starting from the beginning:

Wednesday, August 15^th I said goodbye to my family and flew to Cancun, where I met our program director Diana (she made me feel so comfortable right away! she’s the best), her husband Francisco who is a UADY anthropology professor (equally incredible), and my program-mates (I was a little nervous about them at first haha, but I quickly grew to love them!), and eventually we drove about an hour to Tulum, the coastal city where we spent the next 3 days, aka orientation. Orientation consisted of getting to know the other girls (and 1 boy! Poor Patrick.) on my program, while climbing every Mayan ruin and swimming in every body of water in sight.

On the evening of Saturday, August 18^th we got to Mérida and said our anxious goodbyes to our program-mates as our host families picked us up at the IFSA program office. My host parents are actually great! What a relief. J My host dad was born and raised in Mérida, and my host mom is from Mexico City. They’re very warm and great conversationalists, and have been hosting international students for 15 years, so they’re very comfortable and easy to live with. Together we enjoy watching a telenovela called “Amor Bravío” and walking around in the air-conditioned mall, among other things.

Ah, the mall reminds me – Mérida is much more Americanized/city-fied than I thought it would be. The longer I’ve been here the more I’ve realized that much of my knowledge of Mexico isn’t applicable in Mérida. Mérida is definitely not the same as small-town Jalisco, which has been a little shocking, but very interesting. To begin with, the whole city is segregated between the wealthy in the North (where I live) and the poor in the south, and from what I hear the two populations live very differently. I know little to nothing about the south thus far so I’ll save that for a future post. In the north, however, there are none of the old-lady-owned corner stores that I ignorantly thought existed all over Mexico. Instead practically every block has an Oxxo (chain) convenient store advertising 3 water bottles for $18.90 pesos. And here is a list of the American stores that are in the mall, off the top of my head: Subway, Nine West, Chili’s, Haagen Daas, Starbucks, Adidas… yet this is Mexico! And the people seem to love it. I don’t know how I feel about it all yet, but suffice to say I’ve been to the mall three times already, and to the Oxxo and 7-Eleven… I’ve lost count.

 

Oh and the whole reason I’m here – school! It’s so different. Here are some thoughts that run through my head simultaneously while I’m any of my 4 university classes:

This is so well organized!

This is so disorganized.

Ah, this course is discussion-based, I can do this.

This is so chaotic – why do the students keep yelling out of turn?!

I completely understand what is going on right now.

I have no idea what readings I’m supposed to do, no matter how many times I asked the person next to me.

So that’s school. And everyone wears pants to class even though it’s 90 degrees outside. It’s only been a week of school thus far so I have a lot of sorting through things to do before I can say much other than that it has been a lot of fun and I know I’ll have learned a lot by the time the semester is over!

OVERALL I FEEL REAL GOOD HERE <3 .

 

 

As you know, I’m conscious of the fact that this semester, for the first time, I’m cooking for myself. I’ve been asking people for recipes of tasty food, beginning my personal recipe box. Unlike most recipe boxes found in houses, small or large containers stuffed with a family’s lifetime collection of index card-sized instructions, mine is digital. I have no box in which to store the index cards, and I’m also conscious of the size of suitcase I plan on taking to Egypt. Also, I have a brother who happened to send many recipes from our childhood via an email, and I saved time by simply incorporating his cache into a file on my laptop. (Thanks Drew!)

Anyway, this is my last week at home. When planning my family’s suppers for the week, my father suggested I try out cooking some of the recipes. So, last night I made yaki-soba, a recipe I took from my friend Kat. Know that I didn’t have access to the oyster sauce or dry sherry the recipe calls for, but I would welcome comments on this dish. Does it look correct? Could I boost the flavor somehow? Also, any other recipes are welcome as well.

 

 

It’s hard to believe that it is almost September. In a way, I feel like I have been in Australia forever. Everything in the Smithfield/Cairns area is starting to become highly familiar to me. I know the paths to bike to the beaches. I have my class schedule down. I know how to navigate confidently through the malls and grocery stores. Basically, I’m beginning to discover what really works and what truly doesn’t in my newfound lifestyle.

Just because I am becoming familiar with everything doesn’t mean that I still don’t miss aspects of home. I haven’t gotten incredibly home sick since I’ve been here, but there have been days when I wish that I could be with family and friends that are thousands of miles away, or just go back to my home school for a weekend. But then, there are days here where I’m sitting on the beach surrounded by palm trees and bright blue oceans that I remember- there is never going to be a time in my life again where I will get to do this. Have this time all to myself. And I know, inevitably, I am going to miss this experience when I return to the US.

These past weeks have been great. We’ve all settled in to a sort of schedule trying to get adjusted to schoolwork and what not. We are hoping this weekend to plan spring break (we are flying out to Brisbane) and other trips, like scuba diving, deep sea fishing, and skydiving.

Two weekends ago, we went on our IFSA-Butler Adventure Weekend, which was so much fun! The weekend was exactly what was needed- a chance to get away from our rooms and explore Cairns. We (my entire IFSA-Butler Group) left early Saturday morning on a taxi that was sent to pick us up at the Cairns Student Lodge. My IFSA-Butler group then headed to the Kuranda Skyrail, where we met up with our awesome SSC  (Student Services Coordinator) Lalena. We then boarded the Kuranda Skyrail, which gave us spectacular views of Cairns and the many buildings, fields, and oceans in the distance. We got off of the skrail on two different occasions before reaching Kuranda, which allowed us to hike around in the rainforest and also see Barron Gorge, which was spectacular.

In about 45 minutes, we found ourselves in the village of Kuranda, a cute little town tucked away in the rainforest, filled with people, shops, eateries and a bunch of different little zoos. Our first stop was Birdworld, which was a pretty cool place because the birds actually landed on you and you could feed them and interact with them. Needless, to say, I was pretty excited. We were warned to take off all jewelry because the birds were super curious. My friend Sarah and I came across a very friendly green parrot that liked to sit on our shoulders and climb up and down our arms, and also knew a few select words. However, when we went to put the parrot down because we had to leave, it proceeded to bite both of us and latch on to my backpack until a lady who worked there came over and took the parrot off me. Her only response was “yeah, he doesn’t like goodbyes.” The parrot only gave me a bruise, but he actually drew blood on Sarah’s hand. So, needless to say, I’m not too too fond of parrots anymore.

Then we went to a zoo with a few koalas and wallabies, and had lunch and just explored around Kuranda for the afternoon. We came across some cool places, including a homemade candy and ice cream shop. We also found an opal jeweler who gave us some pretty awesome deals on our purchases and also went in to a twenty-minute conversation on different kinds of opal and what makes certain opal more expensive than others.

Next, we met up with our SSC and walked to our driver’s house (he was going to take us to our next destination- the campground where we were staying for the night). The driver had just gotten a new puppy (Lucy) that he had us meet before we departed. We were all thrilled and insisted that she come in the van with us. So, before we knew it, all twelve of us (and Lucy) were piled into the van and headed for the campground. We made a quick stop at the grocery store on the way and picked up food and supplies for breakfast and lunch the next day.

When we arrived at the campground, we were housed in Kookaburra Lodge. That evening, we went out to dinner at a local restaurant. Of course, we were all completely ecstatic that we could have real food. On the downside, Kuranda was FREEZING. According to our driver, who had lived in Kuranda for most of his life, it was the coldest night he had ever personally experienced. And do you think any of us packed appropriately? Nope. Haha. And, naturally, the restaurant we ate at was half indoors/outdoors so we froze. When we got back to the lodge, we made a campfire and then settled in for a very cold night.

But, like anything, it was an experience. The next morning we woke up and ate breakfast, made our lunches, and set off on a van ride to hike to a swimming hole. The water was freezing, but four of us (including myself) decided that we needed to jump in. ICE COLD. Haha but totally worth it! I also cliff jumped for the first time….probably something I won’t do again because hitting the water hurt like crazy but I’m completely glad I tried it out.

Next, we were off on our rafting tour- suited up in bulky life vests and helmets! We had the craziest tour guide- literally two minutes after we got in the raft he started swaying back and forth to flip it, then proceeded to take us down the first mini waterfall “his way” (not the safe way apparently), which was sideways. We almost flipped- again. Then, at one point, he made us all get out of the raft and float through rapids in the river. There was one part of the river that was almost like a whirlwind under the water and it sucked us in as we floated down. It was kind of scary haha- and we were floating fairly fast. But so much fun! Overall, rafting was one of my favorite activities I have done so far in Cairns. It was very fast-paced at points, and we also got spectacular views.

After rafting was over, we said goodbye to our SSC and headed back to the Cairns Student Lodge to start another week of classes. That Tuesday one of my roommate’s friends from home came to visit for a week and a half, which was awesome! It was a pretty chill week- classes, work, some rain, a few nice beach days, and also my first dinner out at a really nice Brazilian steak house in the city of Cairns. I’ve found that it’s hard for me to realize that I’m actually living here and that I have to do homework and laundry and clean my room. I am almost in constant vacation mode where I think I need to be doing something adventurous every second of the day. But, slowly, I’m getting used to the concept that I’m here for awhile. It’s kind of crazy I’ve almost been here two months- time is truly flying by! It’s incredibly surreal- just looking around and remembering oh….I’m in Australia.

And each day, I tend to remember the quote : “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.” –Confucius. I mean, you really do need to commit your whole heart going abroad so you can get the most out of your experience. It’s hard, because you’ll find you’ll have days where your heart just doesn’t feel that into it and you find yourself being torn between the comforts and familiarity of home and the new and unique opportunities of being abroad. I think the moments here, in Australia, when I feel that I am being abroad with all my heart is when I’m out there doing something- whether it be hiking, going to the beach or any sort of activity or trip, and I feel like I am totally immersed in the experience and truly living it up to the fullest. That’s when I feel like I “go” with all my heart. Those moments when I feel like I never want to leave my new home and the temporary lifestyle I have here.

 

 

After spending a month in a half in a Buenos Aires that as of late has has only showed an interest in being rainy and cold, I decided to get out of town.  That’s when some of my friends told me about Salta.  Warm weather, majestic mountains, delicious comida típica, what was not to love?

I left for Salta on a Wednesday at 8:30, barely making the bus after being tremendously confused by the arrival and departure list in the station.  The bus was very nice, with semi-reclining seats and all you can drink coffee or as is more appropriate in this situation, sugar-water.  Fifteen hours later I was standing under a tree in the middle of the pampas with nothing but scrubland and the fuming bus in sight.  As I listened to the elderly Argentine woman cuss under their breath and the bus captain try and repair the bus with what might have been a hammer, I wondered if I would ever make it to Salta.  Perhaps Salta didn’t exist at all and was simply a prank played on unsuspecting Yankees where the bus company arrives back in Buenos Aires after 20-odd hours.Luckily my fears were unfounded.  When I finally got to Salta I didn’t have much time to do anything so I went to sleep and prepared for the next day.

Salta had a really unique vibe.  The relatively diminutive colonial style buildings gave the admittedly large city the feeling of a smaller community and the arid hills surrounding the city gave way to towering mountains in the country.  With empanada and tamale restaurants on every corner and several impressive pastel cathedrals, Salta had a distinct Spanish colonial feel that is absent from Buenos Aires.

The city had a dearth of things to do, highlighted by the Museo Arqueologico de Altas Montañas, a museum that contained three mummies of Incan children sacrificed to ensure the grace of the Incan gods.  Adjacent to the city center was a small mountain which could be ascended using a gondola that departed from a city park.  I later, in what I can only assume was a fit of madness, ran to the top of the mountain and ran back down, getting myself lost in the process.

However, the highlight of my trip took place south of the city on the Rio Juramento, when my friends and I went rafting with the excellent Salta Rafting, which I whole-heartedly recommend should any of you find yourself in Salta.  The river swirled through a dynamic landscape of sheer cliffs and mountains, flung from the Earth’s crust by the convergence of the Nazca and South American plate beneath our feet.  Within the stratified rock jutting diagonally at the river’s edge, fossilized algae gave a sense of how the region at one point was submerged beneath the ocean.  Also the rafting was incredibly fun, we even had a canine guest on our raft, though his contribution to the paddling was minimal.

Unfortunately, I ended up getting stuck in Salta an extra night, away from my friends.  The city became slightly more boring after this because the natural beauty of the region requires planning to see, and my extra night in Salta was completely unplanned.  Eventually I made it back to BA after an incredibly boring bus-ride, but I did finish the second Game of Thrones book so it wasn’t a total loss.

It’s been a while since my last post so I’ll update you all on the latest adventures.

Two weeks ago, The Betsy Trouble Squad ft. Toria made their way out to Te Anau to embark on the Kepler Track, one of New Zealands seven famous tracks. We drove to Rainbow Reach carpark to camp for the night. Having few available trees we attached one side of our tent to the car. The next morning, while we were taking down our tent, an RV pulled up next to us in the lot. Expecting to see a family caravan, I was surprised to see five old people jump out. We greeted each other, nervously lauighing as they read the obscenities written in the dirt covering our car. They were there to clear the traps along the track of rats, stoats, and weasals that attacked the local birds. We began our hike, surrounded by giant ferns and blankets of moss as we walked. We ran into two hikers, a british man in purple long johns and an asian woman. They told us that we had parked two hours farther away from our destination than we had intended. Although we were a little disheartened, we continued on, having lunch at Broad Bay, a beautiful beach next to a fog filled lake. We then began our ascent of Mt. Luxmore tp the hut, which was supposed to be at an elevation of over 1000 meters. Always on a constant incline, I led the way, feeling energized. Little did I know that two days later, after walking 40 km in total, my thighs would burn with a soreness that I’d never felt before. When we finally broke the treeline, the view was so amazing that we all took our shirts off to hike the rest of the way to the hut. The hut itself comfortably fit 50 people, but besides the five of us, there was only one other person, so we had plenty of room. After exploring he mountain a little more, we decided to make dinner. We made a delicious meal of hot dogs, cheesy bread and potatoes. We later made smore, using ginger snaps instead of graham crackers.

The next morning we boooked it down the mountain, doing the hike in half the estimated time. Andrew and I decided to hitchike back to our car instead of hiking an extra two hours. The second car we saw picked us up. They were a lovely couple from Te anau named Gary and Gail. After getting back to our car, we picked up the rest of our squad and drove back to dunedin.

This weekend was the beginning of our midsemester break. We slept at Kaikoura the first night and hiked Mt. Fyffe the next day. Today we stopped at the Cloudy Bay winery on our way to Nelson for a wine tasting. We had the Rose Blanc with salted olives, the chardonnay 2009 with spiced nuts, and the pinot noir 2012 with a meat crostini. 2010 was a very good year for wine.

 

I’m at a hostel in Nelson so I can’t upload any picture or videos but i will!

 

Cheers from New Zealand!