Back In The United States

Yes it's true, I did not finish my Argentina story.
After Bariloche I went to San Martin de los Andes for a couple of days and did some sight-seeing and then took another too-long bus ride back to Buenos Aires. Once back in BA, I found myself too busy with trying to cram in everything I wanted to do in my last two weeks there to spare any time on filling all of my beloved readers in on everything that was going on. Now I've been back in California for just about a month and finally felt the need to finish my story. Well no, that's not true - I felt the need to do it when I first got back, but I'm finally taking the time to do it :) You should all feel privileged that I care to give you all a sense of closure. I know how hard bringing an end to things can be!

Alright, so San Martin...
After Bariloche I jumped over to San Martin and stayed with a lovely family who really took great care of me and didn't think twice about driving me around everywhere. My first day there I took the mother's advice and took a ferry across the lake to a little village of indigenous people called Quila-Quina. Stepping off the ferry, I soon found a travel buddy in another young single woman who offered to take my picture for me after seeing my attempts at a self-portrait. Her name was Anai, and we spent the day venturing into the forest, finding a waterfall, finding that we had to pay for viewing the waterfall after-the-fact, and holding a good theological conversation. We ended up missing the ferry back because we were so enthrawled in discussion and searching the forests, so we were stuck in this little patch of timelessness for another couple of hours (oxymoron?) until the next one came. We took this extra time to stay close to the harbor so we wouldn't miss our last chance at getting back to reality on the 7 o'clock transportation. I ended up giving her a tract to keep that Dylan, the evangelist that I had met in Bariloche, had given me.
The following day I took a bike ride into the mountains surrounding the lake. It just so happened that I was the only one who signed up for the tour, so it was just me and my guide; Rubi (short for Rueben). Being the only one on the tour, I got to pick if I wanted to take the "easy, boring route", or the "more advanced but fun" route. Of course I stepped up to the challenge.
I soon found out however, that I am not a mountain-biker. My vision of a nice but tiring, pretty bike-ride up a dirt road that eventually would lead to gliding down the mountain with the wind in my hair, was dashed. It all started out innocent enough: a little historical tour around the town followed by making our way up the mountain. But then we went off the road and into the forest... now we were doing real mountain-biking. I found myself on 1 foot-wide bike trails littered by twigs and rocks of all sizes to hazard you below and branches and bushes from above. I was dodging, ducking, and praying all while going uncomfortably fast down unstable trails and trying to keep myself from falling off the edge (yes - the edge!). The first time I fell wasn't so bad. I guess a twig or something had set my wheel off-course, and I leaned into the mountain as I ever so gracefully embraced the earth.
The second time I fell however, was not so pretty. Rubi had stopped to take a phone call (yes, I know), and had advised me to go ahead. So I was just thinking about how glad I was to be on our way back and done with the twigs, when I found myself beside a nice icy creek. Can you guess where this story is going? Since I had picked up a bit of speed on the decline, there was not much I could do when a rock (once again) steered me off course. This time I was not so lucky to be able to lean into the mountain. As the dirt gave way under my out-stretched foot, I could feel my fate coming for me. Somehow I managed to ever so gracefully discard my chariot into the safe hands of solid ground, while I bravely slid into the hands of the chilly water. I found myself sitting in the creek not knowing how that could have actually happened to me.
I had time to laugh, stand up, and turn around before Rubi came riding around the bend. "April!" he choked, as he not so gracefully threw his bike down and came running to my aid. He reached out to pull me out of the water, but found I was immovable. Within the second it took for me to get myself into this position, my left foot had managed to get itself wedged under a sizeable rock. Rubi then bent down on the creek bank and lifted the weight from my foot, allowing me to free myself. He then proceeded to pull me out of the ice-melt. I was sick to my stomach that night and most of the following day.
My next encounter was a day-trip to Volcan Lanin, a nearby volcano. Nothing too exciting happend there, thankfully. I made it back in one piece and with some pretty pictures.
The last weeks of Buenos Aires were full of spending time with friends and taking exursions around the city by myself when everyone else was too busy. Not a moment was waisted, and I don't regret anything. I came to the end of April's Argentina Adventure having attained the ability to speak and understand spanish (no - Castellano), coming out on the other end of teaching English classes (something I never thought I would do), making a difference in the lives of those whom I volunteered with and for, and having gained a world of friends that I never would have had the priveledge to have had if I had not set out on this adventure.

Life is your story, so make it worth reading!


Chau,


Abril