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a glimpse
Iguazu Falls / Argentina · 2014 forever falling
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Fueled by cheap fine wine, the four of us paddled from vineyard to vineyard to vineyard under the wealthy Mendozan sun. The day was as green as it was warm and our sleeves were short and our worries less than a few. And then, some two thousand miles later, we were neck-deep in winter jackets, our eyes clinging to a glacier that knew all hues of all blues. Down there in Patagonia it was autumn in spring, Mt. Fitzroy all dressed up in kaleidoscopic foliage, and everything reigned by harsh winds. Along those endless highways, inching towards far horizons, we found our way just fine, ever south, through prairie lands and the smallest towns with the best empanadas. And when we reached the end of the world in Ushuaia, we turned around and made our way back up, upper and then some, until we reached Iguazu falls, where the water fell, fell, fell fantastically.
After traversing the country from top to bottom and left to right, we settled in Buenos Aires for a bit, living another one of these little short-term lives with the weeks dissolving fast. Our puny apartment in San Telmo had it all, except for windows, and right at its doorstep flea markets with tango, pizza with olives, and the Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur. We dipped out toes into the nightlife, percussion, jazz and parties, strolled among the dead at Recoleta cemetery and among the living along Avenida 9 de Julio and Avenida de Mayo and in a thousand flavorful side streets. It was one of the harder goodbyes this one, home-bound planes for three of us and a 48h bus ride to Rio for me.
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a glimpse

glimpse: AUTUMN SNOW | But winter wasn’t early, nor was autumn late; it was simply a different place, a moody place, where, unbeknownst to him then, snow fell whenever it so pleased.

all those sub-destinations en route
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El Chalten, Patagonia / Argentina · 2014 towards heights
a whole lot of destination
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Perito Moreno Glacier, Patagonia / Argentina · 2014 icy tongue
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places / stories
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places / stories
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Buenos Aires / Painless Predictability

Puerto Madero, Buenos Aires / Argentina · 2014 bridge between centuries
Buenos Aires was most unsurprising, but somehow its predictability was not in the least painful. In fact, I believe that was the only thing that really surprised me. Everything was an affirmation of some accurate cliché that had formed in my head, an entanglement of conscious and subconscious assumptions, that was spot-on beyond the benefit of hindsight: San Telmo’s Sunday flea markets with tango performances, the old apartment buildings that could have been straight out of Paris, the penthouse pinnacles à la New York, Mediterranean vibes somewhere between France, Italy and Spain, mega-avenues, liveliness, grime, arts, nightlife, and the Latin Americaness that tied it all into a pretty bundle. It all made good sense.

Monserrat, Buenos Aires / Argentina · 2014 European ghost

Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur, Buenos Aires / Argentina · 2014 pinnacle parade

Recoleta cemetery on a gray day was good and the Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur on a bright day better.
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Recoleta Cemetery, Buenos Aires / Argentina · 2014 ghost town
It wasn't just another park that was an escape from the city. It was clearly an escape that happened to be a park.
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Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur, Buenos Aires / Argentina · 2014 towers in the wild


Reserva Ecológica Costanera Sur, Buenos Aires / Argentina · 2014 falling without haste
Under a tree in autumn, I fell with the leaves without haste,
until we hit the bottom with our griefs so tightly embraced.

Puerto Madero, Buenos Aires / Argentina · 2014 brick and glass
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Iguazu / Invisible Stains on Your Soul

There is only one thing I really know about waterfalls and that is that nobody hates them. And I can see why, to say the very least. It’s obvious, every time. Iguazu was like a waterfall made of waterfalls, an acapella group of harmonizing water voices.
Iguazu Falls / Argentina · 2014 somewhere under the rainbow

Of course the crushing force of a waterfall seems excessive, but it’s all good fun to watch from behind a railing that someone like you put there, the same anonymous stranger you always trust with your life.
Iguazu Falls / Argentina · 2014 between sides

Iguazu Falls / Argentina · 2014 curtains closing on another day
The mist left invisible stains on your soul that wouldn't come off for a while.

Iguazu Falls / Argentina · 2014 feeding the jungle
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Patagonia / Be, and Be There

Mt. Fitzroy, Patagonia / Argentina · 2014 frayed
You didn’t need to be a mountain lover to fall for Fitzroy. You didn't even need to be any kind of lover. All you had to do was be, and be there.

Patagonia / Argentina · 2014 runaway runway
Just how easy it is to recognize the right way. I know you see it too.

Patagonia / Argentina · 2014 the sweet toll of a long road
No matter how much humanity turned up the heat, it was one of the few glaciers that didn't retreat. Of course that didn't keep us from trying.
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Perito Moreno Glacier, Patagonia / Argentina · 2014 blues are my favorite hues
Exile me on a floe and shove me into the lake and I'll be on my way to warmer shores.

Perito Moreno Glacier, Patagonia / Argentina · 2014 cradle of floes
related
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related
reads | travel
The Super-Ultimate Zero-Item Packing List of a 6-Year-Traveler
the distilled truth about packing after 70 months on the road
We have mustered the privileged courage to wave our comfort zone goodbye, so why are we so afraid of making puny packing decisions? read more
countries | South America | Chile
Patagonia / Hitchhiking Chronicles & Mundane Waiting
why waiting doesn’t feel like leisure
Just why do moments of waiting feel so dull and wasted? Why do we have to “kill” that time? explore
photos | landscapes
Americas
wilderness heart
The glaciers looked like petrified tsunamis, and the psychedelic lagoons like glitches, and that altitude canyon like an abyss in the sky. see more
photos | urban
South America
brick beauty & street art, color & glass
From Medellin to La Paz to Rio, the hills bled bricks. The street art wasn’t born there, [...] urbane installations mixed with flamboyant Pacha Mama spirituality that formed a fairly tame and countenanced link between dyed colonialist old towns and glassy capitalist new towns. see more
elsewhere
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