On the Road

I've been through a lot since our last session. I've been to the end of the world, slept at the border, hitchhiked to a funeral, counted cards, and hiked on a glacier. Although I truly believe my photos supersede best explanation of former sentence, I will permit thee a typed narrative of my recent adventures.
      Exhibit A: the end of the world. A pet name bestowed upon the southernmost city in the world, formally known as Ushuaia. Kept afloat mostly by tourists like myself, looking to place a pushpin near the bottom of the map. Indeed, this is a destination town and nothing more. However if you feel like ponying up a cool seven thou' you can leave this port for sunny antarctica, weather permitting. Unfortunately, I didn't have the cash nor did I feel like swimming so after a couple days down south I decided that I'd rather have an adventure than my guaranteed safety and started hitchhiking north. That's right! I'm hitchhiking. But isn't that a right of passage reserved only for the desperate, sun-baked, hippie vagrant? Well, I won't take that as a complement, but I think you left out senseless. Just because I can afford the bus doesn't mean I necessarily want to ride it. Think of me as a modern-day, counterculture Rosa Parks...that's white, male and with none of the societal hardships. Yes, I may regret getting into that black, unmarked van with Buffalo Bill as my chauffeur, but I'm going to play the age chip and just admit to naiveness. Besides, I don't have to justify myself to the internet. You're the internet. Fuck.
      Excuse my french and we're moving on. So, I've been hitchhiking ever since the end of the world and I've been loving it. My first ride came from a local firefighter, wearing a cowboy hat, shoulder length hair, sunglasses and a flannel. Although he dressed like a serial killer, he was incredibly kind and made sure to point out the location of every roadside accident he had ever attended. His job was to take pictures of the horrific accidents before the biorecovery unit came in and performed some sunshine cleaning. For nearly two hours, he recounted dozens of nightmarish automotive mishaps with incredible detail and a casual morbid curiosity. I'll be honest. I was gripping my three-inch folding blade in my pocket for the first hour or so of our journey together. When it turned out that he was just a weird guy in a cowboy hat with a camera full of trauma victims and not a psycho, my grip loosened and I had a really nice time. He even pulled over at one point to show me a particular species of moss that was used to color certain whiskeys. A true gentleman. In addition to not asking for compensation he didn't even ask for road head, of which I was particularly grateful.
      We arrived in the small town of Río Grande at around two in the afternoon, and having such a positive first experience I was adamant to hitchhike again. I quickly made my way to the Argentinean/Chilean border just north of the city limits, where cars and trucks are required to stop. Unfortunately, that didn't help me much. I spent the day getting acquainted with the Gendarmeria, the Argentinean border police. I learned some colorful language and ended up spending the night in the waiting room. The next morning I bummed a ride with four politically minded 20-somethings. They were northwards towards Río Gallegos in order to pay their respects. Apparently the ex-president, and husband to the current president, Nestor Kirschner had passed the day before yesterday. His body was being flown down to Río Gallegos where he was to be buried. I had stayed a night in Río Gallegos on my way down south, and had found it remarkably dull. But this time was different. When I arrived around noon, there were already crowds beginning to form. By six o'clock, the streets were completely packed. It was incredible. When the actual coffin came, the fervor piqued and it was borderline chaos.
      The next day I caught a ride to El Calafate, the gateway city for accessing Torres Del Paine and glacier Perito Moreno. I've been here for a week now, and alas it is time to leave. I will miss this bar however. At the moment I am enjoying the warm atmosphere of a cafe/whiskey bar that reminds me very much of the Three Broomsticks. While they don't serve butterbeer, they do serve honey beer, really thick hot chocolate, hamburgers and damn good whiskey. Well, my mind is starting to roam, and there's not enough ritalin to lasso it back into the stables. Next stop: Valparaiso to visit Dan and Grace, fellow Middleburians studying abroad in Chile. Now if you'll excuse me I have a date to keep with a Mr. Johnny Walker.