Processing Latin America...and a long list of assumptions!

In the open courtyard outside our hotel room, the sound of falling rain continues on. Since our arrival early yesterday morning, its steady rhythm has provided the soundtrack for our short stay here in Montevideo. In a different time and place, its hindering presence would be quite uninvited... perhaps preventing us from seeing the sights, or slowing down our progress on the trail. For the moment, however, we have no complaints. The peaceful drumming of the rain is refreshing, seemingly only to heighten our anticipation of what is soon to come.

Across the river in Buenos Aires, the climate was altogether different. During our five days there, we were greeted each morning by glowing sunlight streaming through our windows and a bright blue sky overhead. They were the kind of days that make you feel like jumping out of bed and getting stuff done. Which fortunately was exactly what we needed, as there was much work to do.

Although a beautiful city with many worthy tourist attractions, the majority of our time in Buenos Aires was spent at internet cafes, planning and setting up contacts for the next several months of our trip. And of course after the robbery, there were plenty of additional details that demanded our attention. Luckily, we knew of a wonderfully cheap internet cafe (30 cents/hour) that was conveniently located a few doors down from one of the best bakeries (besides my mom?s) that I have ever encountered. On some of our longest days, their chocolate pies filled with dulce de leche gave us the energy we needed for another round in front of the computer screens.

Despite the unfortunate events that occured there, I found myself with a lot to appreciate about Buenos Aires. It is a city full of culture and diversity, that somehow manages to combine a strong European flavor with the laid-back, friendly feel of Latin America. On our first day in the city, while eating at an all-you-can-eat buffet downtown, we found ourselves in conversation with two older gentlemen out on a leisurely lunch break. Within twenty minutes, the one man had given us his home address and phone number, and invited us to his place for a weekend barbecue. Unfortunately, we were unable to take advantage of his offer, but his hospitality and open generosity nonetheless made an impression.

By the time our final day rolled around, we had made a number of similar contacts with people from all over the city. From the managers of our hostels to the owners of the restaurant where Dave?s back was stolen, nearly everyone we met was very friendly and willing to help us in any way they could. After hearing what happened, one woman at our hostel was even willing to change some of our dollars to pesos, giving us enough money to get through the day. Through encounters like these, and because of the fact that this is the only city we?ve returned to twice on the trip, by the end Buenos Aires began to feel sort of like home. And given the circumstances, we could easily have left the city Saturday night on much different terms...

With much of our planning work now behind us, we arrive in Uruguay with no real pressing agenda. Our flight leaves tomorrow afternoon, and until then all we can do is relax and wait. Triggered by the gentle rain outside, these final hours in Latin America have provided wonderful opportunity for reflection. But even given these ideal circumstances, the concept of precessing the events of the past three and a half months is a task of overwhelming proportions. Should i even try? Are words even appropriate? So I sit here, watching the images and memories play back through my head...

That night along the gulf in Louisianna... the Mexico City subway system... beautiful smiling children... hiking the volcano in Guatemala... hospitality... getting worms... visiting family in Managua... trying to use Spanish again... hundred of buses... a free hotel in Bogota... Machu Picchu... seeing old friends again in new places... sensing the presence of God... dulce de leche... Bolivian roadblocks... the surreal isolation of Patagonia... getting robbed... Torres del Paine... cafe...

With very little effort, my meandering thoughts caould continue on for hours. But is this really processing an experience? To process implies some sort of learning, such as a deeper level of understanding or a fresh way of looking at an experience. To truely process something... you must be willing for it to change you.

As I prepare to turn the page on this experience, I find myself pondering that exact question. Have I truely opened myself up to this experience and allowed it to change who I am? This is the ultimate test of humility and learning. There have been times during our journey through Latin America that I feel as though this sort of transformation has occurred. Often it has been via a specific individual, who has spoken to me in a way that they probably never even realized. I have also experienced it in the beauty and majesty of a natural setting, when a certain truth or revelation suddenly becomes strikingly clear. It is this kind of transformative experience when learning takes place, and God's constant presence through it all becomes even more evident.

And of course there have been the difficult times. Towards the middle of South America, as our adrenaline began to fade and the miles started to take their toll, the joy and glamour of the journey also began to disappear. Physical sickness and apathy were setting in, and we found ourselves quickly losing focus. This most definitely was a point of learning as well. Either we learn from what's taking place and make the necessary changes, or we risk putting the entire trip into jeopardy. Fortunately, through the prayers of family and friends back home, and some proactive decision-making on our part, we made the necessary changes to continue on.

A lot has changed since we jumped in Josh Miller?s car and sped down I-81 towards the Mexico border. With lots of uncharted territory ahead, we naturally had developed an extensive list of assumptions regarding our travel through Central and South America. Now having reached the end of this journey, we have enjoyed looking back at some of these assumptions and recognizing the many lessons that have been learned. To wrap up our time in Latin America, Dave and I have compiled a list of these random and often humorous assumptions. We humbly present them to you, in hopes that next time you're in Latin America, you can avoid making some of the same mistakes.

While in Central America, NEVER ASSUME...

...that if you might be arriving somewhere in the dark that physical landmarks will provide substantial information to get you to your destination.
...that an aisle seat is better than a cramped window one, because someone might come running to the bathroom with an urge to vomit in the middle of the night and not quite make it.
...that buses in Guatemala will leave when there are only three people in a seat.
...that small, seemingly innocent children are incapable of robbing you when all other attempts fail.
...that just because there is a cable at the edge of a 600' waterfall, that no one has ever fallen off and died.
...that a Latino will say your destination is nearby when you ask them for directions, especially if you are traveling by foot.
...that just because your bus is able to sucessfully maneuver high and windy mountain roads, that other vehicles are equally lucky.
...that you will be able to catch a bus late in the afternoon, anywhere.
...that the posted cost of a phone call is not per phone call, but per minute.
...that a peacefully grazing horse will not suddenly charge you when trying to capture a nice picture of the sunset from within its pasture.
...that while hiking in the rain forest, the tree branch that you attempt to grab while sliding downhill in the mud will not have nasty thorns all over it.

And while in South America, NEVER ASSUME...

...that the picture of a bus shown to you by the bus company when you buy tickets will actually be of the bus that you paid for.
...that your bus ride might not be unexpectedly stopped for 13 hours by unorganized protesting taxi drivers.
...that in Argentina you can get a bus by simply showing up at the station.
...that portions in Chinese restaurants are for only one person.
...that you can?t become completely infested with worms.
...that just because you're walking along the train tracks, that a train won?t come.
...that you can get e-tickets for international flights.
...that after spending an hour trying to catch a Patagonian hare for dinner that you will return to your campsite with something to eat.
...that a backup ATM card wedged under the insole of a boot will actually function when you need it to...even if it does still open bank doors.
...that you won?t feel sick after eating a lunch of hot dogs and a chocolate pie filled with dulce de leche.
...that you won?t get robbed...ever!
...that it?s impossible to spend more hours of the day in an internet cafe than in a a bed.
...that you can?t spend 3 consecutive nights in three different hostels...all on the same street.
...that just because the weather is beautiful on one side of the river, that it won?t be raining continuously on the other side.

This will be our last update from Latin America. Like the changing of the plot in a movie, the pouring rain outside marks a significant transition. Tomorrow afternoon we will get on a plane, and find ourselves in the Middle East the following evening. It is a radical, much-anticipated transition, and we welcome your prayers as we make the adjustment. Shalom!

Sending us Mail & Website Updates

Some people have been asking about a way to send us "real" mail and wondered if we could provide an address for the next stage of our trip. The following address can be used for sending us letters and small packages during our time in the Middle East:

David Landis and/or Eric Kennel
c/o Nazareth Village
P.O. Box 2066
Nazareth 16100
Israel

We will be able to receive letters at this address from now until the beginning of April, when we will sail with the Stutzmans through the Mediterranean for Greece. We would love to hear from you!

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Also, daily itineraries from Colombia through Bolivia are posted within the South American route pages if you are interested in reading more about our daily routes and experiences. The stats page has also been updated with a few additional categories for certain situations we may encounter in the Middle East.

In Case You Heard About the Robbery...

I get knocked down...but I get up again...

As some of you already know, we had a frustrating experience yesterday when my handbag was stolen while I was sitting in an indoor cafe writing the most recent blog entry here in downtown Buenos Aires. I?m still not exactly sure how it happened, but when I got up to leave, I looked down to where the bag had been, and realized it was gone. It had been on the ground, in between my leg and the wall, in a place that had seemed fairly secure, but when you are traveling, nothing is guaranteed. Thinking back, I remember one point where a man yelled to me from the entrance of the cafe something that I couldn?t understand and after I had told him that I didn?t understand what he was saying, he quickly went on his way. I think this was a distraction that allowed someone else to slyly reach behind my chair and pull the bag out without me knowing. They say the thieves in some of these cities are as crafty as magicians, and that this sort of thing happens all of the time, but that still doesn?t make you feel any better when it does...

Entering this trip we seriously expected this to happen at some point, but it still is incredibly frustrating when it actually does. In my bag was my passport (which was actually almost full), credit and ATM cards, camera and its electronic accessories, and a handful of other very useful everyday items. Since yesterday afternoon we have spent most of our time either on the internet cancelling credit cards, at the police station filing a report, or at the US Embassy obtaining a replacement passport. I now have a new passport, the accounts are suspended and secure, and we are working on an insurance claim that will hopefully provide some reimbursement with the losses, but I honestly doubt it will replace the value of the stolen items.

Looking back on the situation, I realize there were a few things that I could have done differently to prevent this from happening, but at the same time you can never be completely secure when you are traveling as we are for such a long amount of time. It is impossible to always live with your guards up, assuming that everyone you meet is a potential thief. And even if it would be possible, I think it would be a pretty horrible way to relate to people. Our backup plans have worked well in getting us quickly back on our feet, and we are thankful that it happened in a location that is very close to an embassy and has great access to communication. I had also recently backed up all of our photos to CD-ROMs, so even though my camera is now gone, all of the photos from the trip up until this point is secure, as well as our personal journal writing, which we back up regularly through the internet. I?m also thankful that the passport was replaced so quickly because we are flying across the Atlantic in a few days and there could have been serious complications with that transition.

So for the time being, my pack is a little lighter and I?m trying to develop plans to replace the missing items. Because we lost our memory card reader, it may be more difficult for us to post formal blogs as we have been doing until it can be replaced. We still have Eric?s camera, so we have something to visually record our memories until I can try to find a way to replace mine. I was hoping to post many more photos of Torres del Paine, but we will be unable to do that for a little while. Thanks to everyone who has helped (especially my parents), prayed for us, or sent me an email expressing their sympathy. This situation has been tough, but it could have been much worse. We are safe and well, still going strong and our excitement is building as we prepare to head off to the Middle East in only 5 more days.

(and don?t forget to read the entry about Torres del Paine that I posted today right below this one...it cost me a lot of stuff...)

Towers, Trails & Time to Think

Most of our time in Chile was spent in Torres del Paine National Park, a place famous for its majestic mountain and glacial landscapes, strong and unpredictable weather that is able to break tent poles, and for a growing backpacker culture that is drawn there each year. Our plan was to spend five days in the park, hiking a route commonly known as the "W" which pases through many of the park?s different highlights. After a few days of planning and packing with our traveling companions Duncan and Julia, we were ready for whatever the park had to offer us.

January 18: Park Entrance to Campamento Torres

After paying quite a high price for our transportation and entry into the park ($35), we set off hiking for Campamento Torres, the first free campsite on the trail that took us near the famous towers that the park is named for. Starting out, the skies were a little hazy with rain tempting to fall on us, but as we continued up the valley, the clouds slowly faded away and the sun greeted us with energy that only got us more excited for what was ahead. We climbed about a thousand feet up the river valley and went through a series of small climbs and drops until we reached the campsite in mid-afternoon. We pitched our tents to reserve our spot for the night and then took off for the towers lookout in an attempt to get a good view in case the weather took a turn for the worse in the morning.

The hike up to the Torres is a short, steep, and sweet one from the campsite, scrambling up a boulder field until you suddenly find yourself at the base of three enormous rock towers reaching up to the heavens. At the viewing level of the towers is an emerald pond, collecting water from melting snow and surrounded by rock scree that has fallen from above. By observing the 100m contour intervals on my map, I calculated that the towers were rising approximately 5000 feet higher than the point where I was standing, and as much as I tried to connect that thought with what I was observing, I was unsuccessful. This place was incredible. I asked a local Argentinian backpacker if he knew anything about people climbing the towers, and he told me that all he had heard is that it takes about three weeks of vertical climbing to reach the summit.

We spent a few hours up there, just trying to take in the mere majesty of what we were seeing around us. The weather continued to clear up, almost uncovering all of the towers. After a while we decided to descend the hill, planning to return again for the morning sunrise.

Back at the camp, we made our first trail meal, hung out for a little while, and decided to make it an early night after a good first day. When you get this far south (or north) in the local summer season, the days are long and the sunset and sunrise are only a few hours apart. We decided on a 4am wake-up call to begin our morning hike up to catch the sunrise on the towers.

January 19: Campamento Torres to Campamento Italiano

Arising early, we grabbed our cameras and warm clothes and headed up the mountain trail. The pre-dawn light was approaching with a steady blueness, growing somewhat lighter with each step up to the lake at the base of the towers. On the way up the boulder field, the four of us each took a personal route, inspired by our own excitement of seeing the morning light on the rock, and ended up at various spots on the top of the rock bowl. I climbed up a large rock and sat down, huddled for warmth and utterly content, waiting for the sunrise to break over the far-off mountains and illuminate the towers with a few striking rays.

We ended up waiting a little longer than we had predicted, and Julia and I thought that we wouldn?t get any intense light on the towers, so we decided to head down and start breakfast. After five minutes of walking down the trail, I turned around and saw the light hitting the top of the highest tower, slowly creeping down to illuminate the three glowing, golden orbs. Duncan and Eric had luckily decided to wait a little more at the top, and were rewarded with some wonderful photos to match the memories of their view.

A 4am start can make a day quite long, and we hit the trail after our oatmeal breakfast, backtracking some of our route to pass around the front side of the mountain range. The weather had warmed up to a nearly perfect state, and the clouds were fanning out over the tops of the snow covered summits. Our hike dropped us down near the lake shore, and to our right we could see the Cuernos (meaning horns) peaks, another set of uniquely shaped mountains that have a stratified effect similar to that of Neapolitan ice cream, consisting of three distinctly different rock types lined up consecutively from top to bottom. The coffee that we had added to our instant oatmeal started to fade off mid-morning, but after a few short breaks and snacks, we pushed through our tiredness to arrive at Campamento Italiano, where we would spend our second night.

As we made one of the final turns to the campsite, I heard a "boom" in the distance, and quickly looked around in an attempt to discover its source. My eyes scanned the surrounding mountains, looking for a thunderstorm, and finally seeing a stream of snow flowing forcefully down one of the rock faces in the distance above a glacial fiend farther up the valley. Since sound travels slower than light, I missed most of the avalanche by the time that I was aware it was happening. This was an entirely new experience for me, and the thought awed me as I pondered the sort of power that massive amounts of snow must accelerate with under the force of gravity, and how it could flow like water down a rock face, creating a clean coating of fresh, white powder on the gritty glacier. After waiting a few minutes for a second avalanche, we all headed up the trail for the last five minutes of the day's hike.

The campsite sits alongside of a river in the French Valley, which is fed by an ice cold stream flowing from the underside of of Glacier Frances just a bit more up the trail. Coming into camp, I was planning on solo hiking farther up the valley to a lookout indicated on our map, and quickly set up camp and went on my way. Once I started hiking and realized how tired I was and how long I had actually been awake, I made my way over to the river, found a nice flat rock in the sun, and just laid there and rested for a while. My body and mind needed a break, and I waited there, hoping to be the lucky witness of another avalanche, enjoying the incredible natural beauty around me and fully content not to push harder up the trail. The place that I had come to was perfect for the time being, next to a river that humbled my strength and told me to save my energy for tomorrow.

I returned to camp, discovering that everyone else had also found a place to crash as I had, exhausted from a long day. We cooked our dinner alongside the rocky river bank, laughed about the best and worst parts of the day, and once again headed for bed even earlier than the previous night.

January 20: Campamento Italiano to Campamento Los Guardos

Our hike rounded the next mountain range breaking off into the lake and continued up another valley alongside of Lago Grey, a lake that is fed by Glacier Grey, near our night?s camping destination. Fighting some blisters and a fierce headwind, we made our way farther up and farther in, towards the glacier. Before we were actually within sight of the ice field, we passed various mini icebergs floating alongside of the turquoise colored water, going the opposite direction as us at about the same pace.

There is a lookout point at the base of the glacier, a rock peninsula that allows you to walk right down to the water's edge and face the enormous ice field head on. From this point you can gaze right into the blue center of this flowing ice monster and watch large pieces of ice calve off and drop into the water. When the sun would catch the blue ice crystals, it would create a wonderfully strange mixture of glowing light. A little while later we saw a tour boat poking in around the edge of the glacier, and realized that the ice flow must have been almost 100 feet tall!

Taking our time and doing our best to experience our surroundings, we once again stayed a bit longer than we had originally thought, and when the time was right, continued another hour up the trail to our campsite. After hearing of all of the rumors of the park's horrible weather, we were wondering why we had been so lucky to have had three days of nearly perfect conditions. When backpacking is at is best, I think it?s about the perfect way to live. You are continually blessed with incredible natural beauty that you are living amidst, without boundaries separating yourself from the full potential of soaking up the world as it was intended to be.

One of the travel brochures I picked up described this region as, "a spot on earth where the violence and chaos prior to The Creation found a place to hide and survived." The sheer majestic brutality of the landscapes in Torres del Paine reminds you of a primitive savagery that has been protected from the rest of the developed world. The towers pierce the heavens, the glaciers last as far as your eyes can see, and the colors of the greenish-grey water, the scrub brush that appears to be on fire, and the white snow on the mountains contrasting the blue sky paint a picture of something that I wonder if we have forgotten about as our busy lives take us farther away from the essence of untouched nature. These places wake you up and remind you of how small you are and how big the world is, how every opportunity to explore its extremes is available, waiting only for your own initiative and willingness.

January 21: Los Guardos to Administration

The hike out to the park's administration was planned to be the longest of the trip, so we decided to get an early start and try to take advantage of the long daylight hours. The first 3.5 hours of the hike were backtracking our previous day's route down to the park's central lake. We mindlessly ran the trail, hauling our gear at record pace, hardly stopping for breaks, floating from rock to rock so fast that I can barely remembered what happened throughout those few hours.

Feeling good about our progress, we stopped for a generous break, ate some dulce de leche with crackers, and enjoyed the time off our feet for a little while. Dulce de leche (literally meaning "sweet of milk") is some sort of caramelized milk product that you can spread on just about anything to make it taste a little better. In fact, most days we found a use for it in each and every meal and snack we ate, which was a great way to give us an energy boost for the trail when the going got long. I think if someone decided to bring this product to the states and marketed it for backpackers, they would probably do alright.

Speaking of long, the rest of the day included a steady pace throughout an immense valley, providing great views of mountain ranges and plenty of time to think. Walking through wide open spaces makes me feel like I?m really not moving much at all; everything looks the same and you know that you are progressing, but without markers of your progress, it's hard to know where you have come from and where you are going. It's a strange sort of reverse claustrophobia, but a great time to let your mind wander.

We finally arrived at administration and congratulated ourselves for a successful hike, proud of the distance we had covered and thankful for the great weather providing beautiful sights. We caught a bus over to a free shelter in another part of the park and camped inside for the night. We ate up almost the rest of our food, including some that a few generous Israeli backpackers had donated us as they were leaving the park. Glad to give our legs a break, we enjoyed just sitting around in our new home and reflecting on our week. When people take a journey together, the experience that they share with each other can only be remembered within the same communal context, and these times are probably the best memories one can take from a trip.

January 22: Free Shelter...

The shelter was actually more like a boat house than a lean-to, and thankfully so, because this was the night that the wind came. After learning that our lights came on by tightening the bulbs and watching a skunk roll by our front door, we rolled out our sleeping bags for the final time in the park. The house had a lot of drafty cracks, and the wind managed to find its way in and out throughout the duration of the night.

After a late rising and breakfast, we made our way to the parks main waterfall which connects the lower and upper lake levels. The wind was so strong that it could almost knock you over, and I would often loose my balance when only one of my feet was on the ground. The spray from the falls would be carried a good ways from its base with each gust, and the momentum of the water flowing made me think that if I stuck only one finger in its stream, my whole body would be sucked in and thrown over the edge. It was fun to try to lean forward into the wind because if you did it just right, it could almost hold your weight. We heard later that day that if we would have hiked our previous day's route only one day later, we would have felt 120 km/h winds overnight, and I strongly doubt that either of our tents would have survived those gusts.

We briefly visited the falls, and caught a bus out of the park back to the town of Puerto Natales. We spent a few hours working with travel arrangements, burning photos to share with each other, and getting cleaned up after a dirty week. Duncan and Julia generously treated us to a wonderful dinner in the evening, which is just what every backpacker re-emerging to society from trail food rations needs to get back on their feet. We had traveled with Duncan and Julia now for 12 days, and this marked our last together, as in the morning we would go our separate ways to continue each of our journeys. Hopefully our paths will cross at some other point before this is all said and done. In the morning we said our goodbyes and headed for the Rio Gallegos, Argentina.

This backpacking trip in many ways marks the end of our time in Latin America, as our longest hiking expedition thus far, and having a location near the world?s end, the only next stop is to turn around and continue on to new horizons. After this trip to Torres del Paine, everything looks ahead, both in planning and in physical directions. In many ways, the trip was a perfect time to clear our minds, recover our motivation, strengthen our bodies, and help ourselves transition into our time in the Middle East. Our health is basically back to normal, and we feel reinvigorated and ready to continue. Thankfully, our bus transportation back to Buenos Aires worked out better than we could have every imagined and we are now using this week to wrap up things here and plan for the next few months. On February 1, we will fly from Montevideo, Uruguay to Amman, Jordan, with our flight stopping in Rio de Janeiro, Madrid, and Vienna.

To the End of the World... and coming back!

How quickly things change. Only ten short days ago, Dave and I were sweating profusely in the humid, sub-tropical heat of eastern Bolivia. Roadblocks, health problems, and a general state of apathy were slowly taking a toll on our physical and mental well-being. The need to make some changes in our schedule and lifestyle had become glaringly apparent. By our own good luck, or perhaps divine intervention, we found ourselves with an express ticket straight to the end of the world...

Cold, barren, and windswept, the land of Tierra del Fuego really is the end of the world. With the icy continent of Antarctica only several hundred miles away, this is the definition of isolation. Active glaciers and steep, rocky mountain ranges create nearly impassable barriers by land. At sea, the frigid waters of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans combine to create a turbulant, stormy nightmare for any sailor hoping to navigate the southernmost coast in the world. Besides an incredible variety of birds and aquatic species, very few other signs of life exist in this desolate landscape. It's no wonder that as Magellan passed through in the early 1500's, he and his fellow explorers took little interest in this newly-discovered land. And it should come as no surprise that Dave and I found it quite difficult to get there as well.

Thus far on our trip through Latin America, bus transportation has been a fairly reliable and consistent method of getting from place to place. Without too much difficulty, we have been able to show up at a bus station and buy tickets for our desired destination, often on the next bus out. All of that changed once we crossed into Argentina. After waiting in line for nearly six hours at the Argentinian immigration office, we finally made it through and hurried to the bus station to buy our tickets. At this point, we were still planning to travel south to Mendoza, where we would cross into Chile and continue down to the city of Puerto Montt and the surrounding Lake District. Arriving at the bus station, we were quite surprised to find that the next available tickets to Mendoza were not for nearly a week! This time of year is summer in the southern hemisphere, and Argentinians love to spend it traveling. Clearly, this last minute discovery had the potential to throw a decent-sized wrench into our already tight schedule for the remainder of South America.

With our options severely limited, we caught the next bus south, knowing that it would only take us as far as Tucuman. A much larger city, we hoped, would provide us with a few more options for getting further south to Mendoza. We arrived in Tucuman at 3am the following morning, both feeling quite tired and my nasty worm problem keeping me constantly within close range of a bathroom. As we waited for the sun to come up and the ticket booths to open, we caught some sporadic snoozes on the hard chairs of the bus terminal, hugging our packs and dreaming of a quick way out of town.

As the ticket booths began to open, our fate became clear. There was still nothing available to Mendoza, or anywhere further south in Patagonia, for at least a week. Our one possibility, it seemed, was to jump to the next town south, Cordoba, and once again review our possibilities from there. We found a bus leaving that night for Cordoba, which we quickly bought tickets for and pondered how we might spend the next 14 hours in the bus terminal. Fortunately, downtown Tucuman was an easy walk, so we did a bit of exploring throughout the day. We attended an early-morning mass, had a leisurely breakfast, and took advantage of the best internet rates we've encountred the entire trip - 30 cents an hour.

As I checked my email, I came across an old email from a Brasilian friend of mine, detailing his plans to spend several weeks in Cordoba with a few friends. I had met Lynarcos about five years ago, while a member of a YES team to central Brasil. Our team spent a weekend at an "Encontro" retreat in Goiania, where Lynarcos happened to also be attending. We had a number of good conversations throughout the conference, and have since been keeping in contact via email, never quite sure if we would have the opportunity to meet again. On a whim, I decided to quickly send him an email, hoping that he might check sometime that day and we might be able to arrange a time to get together. Given that I would need a response within the next few hours, I was quite skeptical.

Before our bus pulled out that evening, I checked email again. Sure enough, Lynarcos had responded with the address he was staying at, and invited Dave and I to stop by when we arrived in Cordoba. By this point, we had spent three straight nights on buses, and figured that it might be time to give our bodies a little break. Despite taking some powerful worm meds, I was still experiencing some stomach problems, and Dave was developing a growing pain in his abdomen that didn't seem to go away. It was time for a break.

We ended up staying the next two days in Cordoba with Lynarcos and two of his friends, Julio and Douglas. Much of our time was spent around the table, sipping warm mate and speaking a strange mixture of Spanish and Portuguese. A real fun-loving and hospitable bunch, Lynarcos and his friends also took us on several tours of the historic parts of the city. And when it came time to rest, they even gave up their own beds for us to sleep in. This time of hanging out with an old friend, making some new ones, and resting our tired bodies proved to be exactly what was needed. I left Cordoba with my stomach back in order, and my spirits refreshed from this unexpected encounter.

While in Cordoba, we had again been checking with a variety of bus companies with routes going south, and nothing seemed to be working out. Our only option, it seemed, was to head for Buenos Aires and try to find something there. So that's exactly what we did. We arrived in Argentina's capital city the following morning, not sure exactly how long we might be stranded there. With our ideals of traveling by land to the southern cone quickly fading with each passing day, we were forced to consider other ways of getting to southern Patagonia. Although a bit pricier, it was becoming clear that if we truely wanted to get all the way to Tierra del Fuego, we would have to fly.

Before going to the airport, however, we decided to take advantage of the higher quality of healthcare present in this large city. Dave's discomfort in his side still hadn't gone away after several weeks, and we were beginning to get a little concerned. So for the first time on this trip, we made our way to a hospital to get him checked out. Arriving at the hospital, we found hundreds of people utilizing their country's free health care system. Long lines and crowded waiting rooms were scattered everywhere throughout the building. Just as our discouragement began to build, an English-speaking gentleman who had been waiting for two days approached us and asked if he could help with anything. After explaining our situation, he led us down to the ER, helped us fill out some paperwork (even allowing us to use his home address), and convinced the receptionist to allow us to see a doctor. Within minutes, Dave got a brief examination by an ER tech, who assured us that nothing serious was wrong, and gave him a prescription in case of further pain. Feeling a bit better and anxious to continue on, we made our way to the airport and booked seats on the afternoon flight to Ushuaia.

As the southernmost city in the world, Ushuaia is a landing point for all sorts of people. Since it is an important port city, many Argentinians come here to work in the booming fishing industry or to help out at the docks. Others have established very successful sheep farms on the bleak, grassy plateaus outside of town. And of course there are the tourists. Some spending thousands on a cruise to Antartica, others (like ourselves) looking to explore a few of the incredible national parks and find rest and inspiration in the beauty of untouched nature.

Arriving with us on the flight from Buenos Aires were two fellow travelers with similar goals for their time in the southern part of the continent. As we picked up our bags off the belt, we struck up a conversation and realized that we were all planning a similar route through Tierra del Fuego and southern Chile. Julia, a fellow American, is getting ready to begin a semester studying Spanish at a university in Buenos Aires. Originally planning to spend a few weeks in Brasil before the start of the semester, she ended up making a quick change of plans after realizing that she didn't have the necessary visas to enter the country. Duncan, a Brit who has spent the last several years working in finance throughout southeast Asia, is getting ready to begin his own trip around the world. The course of his year-long journey will take him from Sydney to London, completely overland. He is using the next few weeks to travel for a bit in South America before meeting his friend in Australia to start the big adventure. After a brief conversation, we all decided to split the cost of a taxi into town, and ended up staying at the same hostel on the edge of town.

As cooking up a sucessful stir-fry together that night at the hostel, we decided that we enjoyed each other's company enough to warrant traveling together for the next few weeks. The following day, after buying a $12 tent, some extra gear, and a decent amount of food, the four of us set out for Tierra del Fuego park, located along the Beagle Channel near the Chilean border. Our first day was spent hiking around secluded bogs, through forests of overgrown beech trees, and along the frigid waters of the channel. The company was great and the scenery fantastic. As we made camp that night, we noted the seeming overabundance of rabbits that dominated the park, and considered the feasability of cooking up a hot rabbit stew. However, catching the speedy critters proved to be much more difficult than anticipated, and so we settled for our prepackaged rice dinner. As the sun finally crept below the horizon soon after 11pm, we made our way to our warm sleeping bags and crashed for the night.

The next day, despite a cold drizzle and bone-chilling winds, we climbed up the Cerro Guanaco, a 1000m peak dominating the center of the park. It was a beautiful, albeit challenging hike to the summit. Arriving at the top in early afternoon, our view was largely obscured by the driving snow and heavy clouds at the top. But the experience was clearly worth it... admist those kinds of weather conditions, one could very easily be convinced that they were somewhere in Antartica, trekking through the rocky and snowy solitude. The cool air and splendid scenery provided the rejuvination that we needed. Returning to our hostel that night, we cooked up another delicious feast and collapsed happily into our warm dormitory beds.

Following our few days in Ushuaia, our next stop was the Chilean city of Punto Arenas, located along the choppy waters of the Magellan Strait. Our time here was more of a stopover on our way north to the small town of Puerto Natales. We did have time, however, to visit one of the main attractions in Puno Arenas, the Seno Otway pinguinera. You guessed it... a colony of over 10,000 Magallanes penguins living on the rocks and grassland along the coast. Since penguins always return to their place of birth to raise their own young, this particular pinguinera has been in operation for decades with no signs of stopping, given that the penguins' habitat is preserved. We were fortunate to visit during the time of year when the young are just beginning to lose their baby feathers and learn to swim. As you can imagine, this proved to be quite an amusing sight.

This morning we took a bus from Punto Arenas north to Puerto Natales, the jumping off point for excursions into Torres del Paine. Known as probably the most popular backpacking destination in all of South America, we plan to do a five day backpacking trip into the heart of the park, hopefully avoiding some of the most well-worn and popular routes. Duncan and Julia will also be joining us for Torres del Paine, after which we all plan to spend a few days in Los Glaciares park across the border in Argentina. From there, Dave and I will return to Buenos Aires, before crossing into Uruguay and flying out of Montevideo on February 1st.

Forward Progress...Pushing Through Roadblocks

Looking back, we have now been on the road for nearly three months, and in only three weeks we will be in the Middle East. Time has been flying by at a speed it feels like we can only try to keep up with, and our pace throughout the past month has reflected that. If you would pull out a map and think about the ground that we still want to cover in South America before February 1, you will see that we will be finishing this leg of our journey running.

After our budget adventures to Machu Picchu, we made our way to Lake Titicacca, the highest navigable lake in the world at around 13,000 feet. and to the Bolivian town of Copacabana to spend a few days enjoying the lake, famous for its reed boats and trout dinners. We also planned to visit the Isla del Sol, which is where the sun was born according to Incan tradition. We entered Bolivia fighting colds, stomach sickness, and hoping that our bodies would be able to heal a bit before too long when we would need to begin our long bus trek into Patagonia. We came to explore, to do some hiking, and to bring in the New Year.

After a day and a night in the town of Copacobana, we decided to move out to the Isla del Sol for the new few days. Waking up from a somewhat rough night in our hostel, Eric and Rachel were feeling a little sick, and we decided to take a ferry from Copacobana instead of first walking the peninsula to the point, which would have been a 10 mile hike. It was New Year's Eve, and the plan was to spend the next two nights camping, bringing in the holiday from a hillside overlooking the lake.

Our ferry landed late afternoon, and the task at hand was to find a campsite for the night that was quickly approaching. We felt the altitude, our sickness, and the weight of our packs as we headed north on the east side of the island. After a bit of deliberation and some backtracking, we found a spot on the edge of a hill overlooking the east side of Lake Titicacca. We set up the tent, started cooking a pasta dinner, and tried to ward off local children as the night came temperatures began to drop. My appetite wasn't that strong and it was difficult for me to get the food down.

We all piled into the tent early, sometime around 7pm, hoping to escape the coming cold and because of our lack of other options for entertainment. With five hours left until midnight, what do you do to pass the time? Fireworks would sporatically erupt from the small neighboring towns as we talked for the next few hours, not yet quite ready to call it a night. I was personally feeling pretty uncomfortable and ready to sleep, if that was possible at such an early hour in a cramped tent.

Around midnight I woke up warm and sweaty, needing to get out of the tent for some ventilatoin from the cool night air. I felt cramped and claustrophobic, almost suffocating from the warmth inside of the tent. So what was going on? I had just felt so cold only a few hours ago... I checked my temperature and it ready 103.7, and then I knew that I had found the problem. I took a double dose of tylenol and tried to fall back asleep, but there's nothing about as bad as camping when you're sick...

An hour or later we were awoken by a thunderbolt nearby, a little too close for comfort. We quickly scrambled out of the tent, ran down a dozen agricultural terraces, and waited in the cool drizzle for a while until we felt it was safe to return. Luckily for me with my burning fever, I felt perfectly warm in the cold rain. After this we were able to get some restless sleep, but it ended up being a long night.

Throughout the night when I was unable to sleep, I kept reminding myself that we needed to take better care of our health. If we have a few more days like the previous few, our conditions could develop into something more medically serious, and this could have serious implications on the rest of our trip. It also made me realize that we were really starting to burn out...

When we began this trip a few months ago, we found that it would usually only take us about one day to recover from a 20 hour busride, but as the trip progressed, we found that it would take sometimes three or four days to feel normal and rested again. Over the last three months, wonderful people and opportunities have pushed our schedule back bit by bit, and now we are trying to travel through South America at a pace much faster than we had previously expected. Our pace has been becoming increasingly grueling each week, and I think our bodies have slowly been reflecting each stress as more time and ground passes.

We decided to get a hostel for the remaining night on the island, and I decided to stay back and rest for the day while Eric and Rachel went hiking. It's hard for me to hold back from an opportunitiy to explore a new place, but when every day is new and the places you could go are endless, you can quickly become overwhelmed by the possibilities. And the result is that you feel the phsyical wear and tear while you try to push out each of those options. I decided to take a nap and woke up 4 hours later, still feeling a little strange, but more rested.

We traveled from Copacobana to the Bolivian captiol of La Paz the next day, making multiple connections on micros and ferries, eventually pulling into the city sometime in the late afternoon. We went out searching for a restaurant for dinner, and settled for a Chinese place which ended up having somewhat small portions. Still hungry, we found a birthday cake at a local bakery, and brought it back to the hostel for desert. With full stomachs and a desent place to stay, we felt a little better and were able to get some rest before continuing on the next day.

We spent the following day exploring La Paz, walking the streets and browsing the markets. Rachel and I both bought musical instruments (a charango and a mandolin) and we all took advantages of the cheap prices and interesting products for sale. The mercado to brujas (witches market) sells all sorts of strange items, including dried llama fetuses, which are supposed to bring good luck or something. We just wondered what sort of fun time a person would have trying to bring one of those through US customs...

We said goodbye to Rachel on Monday night and she headed to the airport to catch a flight back to Santa Cruz, and we went to the bus station to seek out a bus for the same destination. We found an overnight bus immediately, and were somewhat excited to once again be back on the road, covering some good ground. Our intended arrival time was around noon the next day.

During the night, we dropped out of the high elevation altiplano and we felt the heat and humidity coming upon us. I woke up sweaty and uncomfortable once again and wondered if my sickness had not really gone away. But thankfully I was wrong, and it was just the heavy air and its accompanying mugginess. We stopped for breakfast around 6 am, reborded the bus, and headed down the street, only to be stopped in our tracks by a roadblock.

Since we have been in Bolivia, it seems that roadblocks have been the thing to do. With a corrupt government, people feel helpless to change their situation, and for some reason feel that shutting down major roads will help to improve their issues. The point of the roadblock that we encountered was the rising deisel fuel prices, which resulted in maybe 100 taxis and trucks parked across the highway, refusing to move for any bus, car, or logical reason.

After about an hour of waiting, the Bolivian police came and a few of the men pushed away maybe 3 or 4 cars, and then left, not really accomplishing much of anything. We decided to hang out at the restaurant we had conveniently been stranded at and passed a few hours eating, practicing the charango, and teasing a monkey that was tied to a bench with the company of a few Israeli backpackers.

As the hours passed, we became increasingly more frustrated. We were trying to pick up our overall travel pace and had been stopped dead in our tracks with on other options except to wait. It also seemed pointless that this roadblock was in the middle of nowhere, where no media attention would ever arrive and get the message out, and with no organized leader, the purpose of the protest would die with its end. Around 7 in the evening, the scene started to get a little ugly, with women screaming at the protesters about their hungry and sick children, men starting to try to move some of the cars out of the way, and massed of people beginning to shout, "Now! Now! Now!" while banging on the hoods of the taxis. And then for some reason, everyone got into their cars, drove off, the buses started their engine, and we were on our way to finish the final four hours to Santa Cruz.

We arrived at the MCC Center late at night and crashed. Denver Steiner, one of our friend from EMU and his family had been visiting Bolivia for the month and we were planning to meet up with him for a few days. Clark and Carolyn Yoder, parents of Kiara Yoder, another friend of ours from EMU, serve at the MCC center. It was nice to see some familiar faces after a long and somewhat frustrating day on the road. We decided to spend a few days in Santa Cruz recovering, planning for the next few weeks, and just enjoying the company of friends.

Besides wonderful late night conversations, sleeping in and eating our fair share of salte?as, we have taken a little time to explore a few of the projects found locally in Santa Cruz. Denver's familiy spent four and a half years working with the Stansberry Children's Home, which functions as both an orphanage and day care facility. We spent an afternoon there doing computer work, meeting the staff, and touring the facilities.

We also visited PRONATs, and program that reaches out to youth by building relationships with them and helping to provide opportunities through education and empowerment. We both knew a few people that had worked here in the past, and my sister Maria will also be helping out with PRONATs sometime this spring when she passes through Bolivia with EMU's Latin America cross-cultural program. I have heard a lot about MCC's efforts in Bolivia over the past few years and have had a number of friends that have connections with this place, so it has been nice to connect those people and places together.

Tonight we once again hit the road, looking to make our next real stop somewhere near Santiago, Chile. In three weeks, we plan to be in Amman, Jordan, and there are an estimated 150 hours on buses until we make our flight out of South America. In other words, we will be on buses approximately 1/3 of the time during the next three weeks, day and night.

Traveling at this pace does make me wonder at times if we should have given ourselves more flexibility to spend longer amounts of time at certain places where it felt right and the opportunities fit. Our yearly goal for what we want to do and see is very ambitious, and includes a few incredible stretches of land travel without much time in any certain place. The last few weeks have been difficult with sickness issues as I can tell our bodies are starting to really feel the constant stress of travel. It's a tough balance to stay rested and also to take advantage of the beautiful places that you find yourself in, but if this balance is not maintained, the trip can also sputter out into an exhaustive spiral.

A lot of our journal entries have described the beauty of certain landscapes, the deep learning that comes with our connections with certain people, and the excitement that we feel from many new places every day. There is also another side that comes with those rewards, and it is one that is often stressful, exhausting, and leaves us feeling in a state of general apathy and weariness. It feels like the last few weeks have been a certain peak in these feelings, and our bodies have been telling us to take it easy.

At least three weeks in the future, we will be in an area that we will generally stay in for the next few months. We're looking forward to that for a little sense of mental rest from the constant planning involved with daily travel. Our pace has required us to learn how to rest when we are able, to try to find that balance between taking advantage of experiences and finding the time to recover and process them. And the constant challenge is to keep our attitude in our purpose. Even adventurous travel can become routine if you feel that you know how to handle all the bends and surprises. Keeping each day fresh and alive is a constant challenge, one that I believe is really in the attitude that we bring to each situation. Remember us in your thoughts and prayers as we begin a slightly even faster paced couple of weeks, and that we can stay strong and healthy as we enter into the next major portion of our round-the-world journey.

During the next three weeks we will be traveling towards Santiago, south through Chile to Puerto Mont, to Torres del Paine National Park, Tierra del Fuego, and then returning up through Patagonia to Buenos Aires or Montevideo, where we will fly across the Atlantic.

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Additional Note:

After reading the last entry, you may be thinking that we?ve learned basically nothing, talking about how tired we are, yet still pushing at least as hard and fast to finish the part of our trip through Latin America. I write this just to say that we are doing our best to be careful, and are adjusting our plans as we need to in order to take care of ourselves.

When you see what feels like the final stretch lying ahead of you, it takes a special wisdom to know how to pace yourself and finish strong. You can keep us in your prayers as we try to be perceptive to our physical needs and as we also try to remain true to our travel and learning goals.