peace and pasta.

I made it through my second week with plans for Saturday yoga and a meet-up with Lynn and Sue in Seomyeon after. I had another wonderful yoga session. The style of yoga is slightly different than what I am used to. I generally practice Ashtanga but this class is a Sivananda class - much of the same concept but tweaks in the positions - something I had to get used to. It is a two hour class with intense breathing exercises in the beginning and then the 12 asanas that follow. I am now able to get up and stay in a headstand all by myself: a proud moment when I achieved that! It is a wonderfully diverse class with foreigners and Koreans alike. The man who teaches it is an English instructor from California and quite the accomplished yogi.

After yoga I met up with Sue and Lynn for a pasta meal. I wasn't sure how Koreans would produce pasta - my experience in Thailand with "pasta" had been far from a delicacy. But, it turned out to be delicious! I was pleasantly surprised and had a chance to get to know Sue and Lynn a little better. It was an excellent way to spend a Saturday. I left their company for home and a shower with the promise to return to that area in the evening for a night out but, once home, my lazy bones kicked in and I had a relaxing night to myself.

week two.

My first full week of work was replete with the dramatic underpinnings of a virgin teacher learning the ropes. Each day I felt myself get more and more confident with the process and my ability to organize and categorize helped me immensely. The seemingly simple task of learning almost 60 students' names was a great undertaking; especially when some names were more popular than others: Harry, Sally, Tommy, Jenny. We also had some gems: Kobe, Spiderman, Highstar, Rice (who just recently told me he wants to change his name to Lice - I had to break the news to him that Lice is not really all that desirable of a name; it's unclear whether or not he got the picture). That is the other brilliant part of it, the kids often want to change their names, AH! Just when you think you've got a handle on it all!

All of the curriculum, tests, and material are prepared for us. So, our job is to transfer that information to the kids in the most efficient and effective way possible. My issue came not with the transmission of information so much as the control of the students. I, erroneously, was under the stereotypical impression that Korean children would be obedient and respectful - oh how wrong I was! Once they realized that I have NO idea what they are saying when speaking in Korean (actually, Hangul), all hell seemed to break loose. Some of my classes were much better than others but I had a few precious students who felt that dancing, singing, and generally creating mayhem was the better way to spend their time with me than sitting, listening, and repeating. The fatigue that coupled with the constant abrading of children who laughed in your face or looked at you in total confusion was immense. At the end of the day I was ready collapse.

During that second week I did not do much more in the evening than go home, make myself something to eat, and pass out from shear exhaustion.

yearning for yoga.

My first night out in Busan under my belt, the activity of the week took its hold on me and my compromised immunity. I woke Saturday morning feeling slightly under the weather. But, before I had even arrived in Busan I had found an English taught yoga class that only meets once a week on Saturday, and had been adamant with myself that I would attend. So, garnering my waning energy, yoga mat in tow, I made my way to Seomyeon, an area about a 25 minute subway ride from my apartment in Minam. I am quite happy that I went, my body was not thanking me the next day, but I had an opportunity to meet some wonderful, fellow foreigners and made my first foray into creating new friendships. The rest of my day was dedicated to sleep. My cold was taking a firmer hold on me and I was hoping to keep it at bay as my first full week of classes loomed.

Sunday I ventured to a store called HomePlus - a huge multinational chain that is a megastore complete with groceries, clothing, electronics, housewares, etc. - to stock up on some groceries and some necessary home furnishings that I was missing. I was gratified to discover that HomePlus stocks a whole organic dry foods section as well as organic produce. Imagine my delight! I could remain my hippie, happy self without compromise even on the other side of the world. HomePlus even replete with recycled paper toilet tissue and natural detergents and cleaners! Joy!

I had also discovered a smaller, independently owned "hippie shop" just down the street from my work. The store is run by this wonderful woman who speaks relatively fluent English and who has become my friend in the last couple of months. She often gives me discounts and little things for free. She carries some of the organic items not found at HomePlus but, accordingly, her prices are higher - I do my best to patronize her shop while not breaking the bank. She was incredibly impressed my first time shopping there by my Queen's "big green bag:" the biodegradable, recycled material bags that Queen's gave out to student for free during Frosh Week. She loved it and wanted to make a replica of it to sell in her store. She pulled out her cellphone and took all kinds of pictures of it - it was quite entertaining.

Aside: Things that are hard/impossible to find here: cheese (if a store stocks it, it's a pretty penny and I tend to buy in bulk because there is no guarantee there will be any when you return), raw oatmeal (I have yet to find that), brown bread (the brown bread I have found is questionably brown bread - apparently the white bread phenomenon spread far and wide here), and chickpeas (one of my favorite forms of protein consumption, beans, are very hard to come by - I've only found kidney beans and dried soy beans, so far). Those are the items I miss most. Otherwise I have adapted quite well to the foods available to me. And, it doesn't hurt that I can retain my organic eating habits.

With a stocked fridge and an achy body I spent the rest of my Sunday sleeping and lounging, mentally preparing myself for the week ahead.

meet and greet.

My Thursday training mission went much smoother as I was familiar with the terrain and my stress levels were considerably lower. I made it to and from Changwon without incident and realized how much more I enjoy the Tuesday/Thursday schedule over Monday, Wednesday, Friday: it isn't such a flurry of action at every turn.

In the evenings, I had been eating Kim Bop - the Korean version of sushi - as it was the only thing I knew how to order and could be sure of the vegetarian nature of it. Brandon, the HR guy, had brought Brent and myself out to lunch at the kim bop place downstairs from work on my first day so I learned how to say, "vegetable sushi, no ham" (they tend to like to sneak ham into all sorts of things, a slight nuisance for me). So, my diet for the first few days consisted of kim bop for dinner and some kind of pastry for breakfast/lunch.

Busan has an alarming number of bakeries - something I was not anticipating. There is one omnipresent chain called "Paris Baguette" that labels everything in English and Korean and makes some mighty tasty, gluttonous delights. There are also other smaller chains and independent bakeries all over the place. My first few weeks I definitely took advantage of that and would go to Paris Baguette every morning for my breakfast pastry. Because Korea was never colonized by a European power, the prevalence of bakeries seems counter-cultural and out of place, but I am not complaining!

We had decided, my fellow teachers and I, that we would go out on Friday evening to get to know one another and to officially meet outside of the workplace. After work Lynn led us downtown to an area that is known for its bar scene, as there are two large universities in the vicinity. We went out to supper for this fabulous fried rice with all sorts of seafood that is cooked on a private burner at your table - you are responsible for the observation of the food and temperature control. Delicious! We then made our way to a bar called "Thursday Party" - an infamous foreigner hang out - Brent and I were overwhelmed by the number of white people. We decided to move on. We landed at a bar called OL 55, another foreign run place but with much better music and a more relaxed scene. We played pool, drank Korean beer (which is surprisingly tasty), and had a chance to glimpse the social personalities of one another. It was a wonderful treat and hugely gratifying to realize that I enjoyed my co-workers.

Feeling the week's exploits begin to pile onto my psyche, I decided to call it a night around 3am and shared a taxi home with Brent (he and I were living in the same neighborhood).

I survived my first week.

training to avoid trauma.

I had to wake early the morning after my arrival to make my way to a city about an hour and a half away from Busan. Because Headquarters did not want to train me in Seoul, I was to meet one of the trainers in another city, as he was there on some other business. Nerves on edge and clutching my directions like an amulet, I safely made it to Changwon without incident. I trained for about two hours and then headed back to Busan to teach my first day of classes: what chaos! My hours for work are from 1p-9p. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday my actual classes run from 2:30 to 7:10 (the periods before and after are for prepping and grading). Tuesday and Thursday my classes run from 3:00 to 7:45. My Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule is a whirlwind as I have 6 different classes that change every 45 minutes. Five minute melees signify the transition of classes as one group of students tramples the other in an attempt to secure their prized seat. Tuesday and Thursday are much more relaxed as I only have 4 actual classes that meet for two periods, rather than one, making the transitions much more calm and less frequent.

My first day was pure mayhem: attempting to remember everything I had been told that morning, struggling to make it through the lesson in the proper time frame, desperately trying to remember everyone's English name (or give them one if such was the case), and keeping up with the integrated technology - it makes me exhausted just remembering it. But, needless to say, I made it through my first day alive and knew that once I got the hang of everything the level of insanity would subside. Dealing with swathes of children who, more often than not, have no idea what you are saying to them can lead to strained communication and frustration. That evening I went home and collapsed from my 13-hour day, not looking forward to a repeat performance the following morning.

baptism.

So, here I go again. My wandering feet were yearning for new geography and I was in no mood to stop them.

I was nuptially summoned home for an incredibly fortifying spell: family, friends, yoga, and my favorite big sister's gorgeous wedding. During the maelstrom of planning and plotting, a ploy for Korea burst into my conscious. Ready for another grand adventure but with some green accompaniment, teaching English abroad seemed just about ideal. Allowing personal testimony of friends and acquaintances to guide my compass, Busan, South Korea won my attentions. Alas, my interests morphed into the real McCoy and, after months of interviewing, fingerprinting, background checking, and general paperwork drama, I booked my one-way ticket for a year in Korea. Thus, the morning after the great marital soiree, I was enroute to Seoul.

(The reason for my inappropriately prompt exit was the fact that I was technically supposed to have been in Korea February 23 to have a week of training in Seoul and then to begin classes on March 3 but, with the wedding on February 29 and March 1 - March 2 was the earliest I could leave the States. The school was absolutely understanding and made arrangements for me to come a week late but that meant I had to leave awkwardly soon after the wedding.)

Originally slated to take a week's training in Seoul, plans changed. Arriving in Seoul unscathed and requisitely stiff from hours on a plane (total air time was 17 hours) I spent a single night in Seoul and woke at an obscenely early hour to catch the high speed train south to my final destination: Busan (about a 3 hour ride). I was picked up at the station by an employee of the academy I was to work for; Mr. Jo, a man of little English. Our first stop was my new home for the year, given only enough time to drop my bags and feel sufficiently overwhelmed by the pace of my arrival, we got back into the car and headed to work.

The academy I am working for is called CDI April English. CDI is the corporation that owns private English schools all over Korea. I work for an arm of CDI: April English. April English is responsible for lower level English: phonics, preliminary speaking/intonation; our demographic pulled from elementary and middle school students. Our branch is brand new so every teacher and staff member is treading in unknown waters, an interesting dynamic to come in to.

On my introduction to the school I met the Human Resources contact who I had become well acquainted with through the grueling hiring and Visa process, Brandon - most excellent to put a face to a stream of emails and phone conversations. I then met my fellow teachers: Brent, the other "foreigner," hails from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan: a Canadian comfort and an adventurous spirit with a startlingly dry wit; Lynn, my co-teacher and the head instructor: Korean and wonderful. A true gem when it comes to information about Busan and a veritable social princess with her extensive connections with every club and restaurant owner that is worth knowing; Carrie, also Korean and Brent's co-teacher: a seasoned traveler and always ready with a smile and a laugh; And, Amy, a very new addition to our staff (she just started work in the beginning of May): Korean, from Seoul who came down to Busan to be closer to her Canadian love; her palpable joy for life is entirely infectious and intoxicating.

There is also my branch manager, Ally, a devout Christian (she has invited both Brent and myself to join her at her church services) and quietly and timidly supportive of the teaching staff. Sue and Emily are our front desk support and act as our constant connection between the school and the parents. They are wonderful to have greet you on arrival and are both enchanted with my energy. I am convinced they are constantly laughing at me, but in good spirit; they are both incredibly kind and indispensably helpful.

Last but not least is Yoon: our operations fellow. He is the man responsible for my apartment relocation (to be described in depth shortly). A positively lovely man and completely understanding of my ineptitude in dealing with Korean people when it comes to technical and housing issues. He is my go-to guy.

So, my first day on the job I was briefly introduced to all of the technology and sat in on a day's worth of my classes that Brandon was covering for me in my tardiness. This was Tuesday. Wednesday morning I was to navigate my own way to another city, train for a couple of hours in the morning, and return back to Busan for my classes at 1 pm. Baptism by the fiery bowels of hell, as I like to say. But, let me digress: my first night in Busan. After sitting in on hours of classes, trying desperately not to pass out from exhaustion, I was released.

On first viewing of my apartment the daunting observation: no bed, a fact that made me feel nauseous having been told there would be a bed, and the image of me sleeping on a pile of my own clothes on the floor my first night in the city horrified me. Mentioning this to Mr. Jo, with as much casualness as I could muster, he assured me that there would be a bed by the time I was home from work; thank heavens. Arriving back to my apartment, after a few trials and errors with directions from the subway, I had a more substantial chance to check out the place. I cannot say I was entirely dismayed but nor was I entirely pleased with the setting for my subsequent year. The three most striking drawbacks: first, the unfortunate presence of one of my least favorite stenches: stale cigarette smoke; second, the lack of stove and, in its stead, a plug in hot-plate; and third, the allowance of heat only from 10 o'clock in the evening until 8 o'clock in the morning, awkward. But, having prepared myself to expect the worse, I was reassuringly positive and committed to making the most of it all. While Mr. Jo had made good of his promise of a bed, sheets, pillows, and blankets were absent. As I was preparing to spend the night in several layers of clothes using my towel as my blanket, Mr. Jo darkened my door with all the necessary bedding. Saved again by Mr. Jo!

Sufficiently warm and in much better spirits after having shed the prospect of a night in perpetual discomfort, I settled in for my first night in my new city.

ambitious asados.

our first full day in mendoza introduced us to outing planning & several new friends. hostel lao, equipped with an asado barbeque, enticed philip & i to attempt our inaugural, independent asado foray. filled with unfounded confidence we made our way to the butcher & bought, what can only be considered, an obscene amount of meat. dinner plans in the making and the prospect of a relaxing, lazy day on the hammocks found us content to remain in the lovely lull of lao. we booked ourselves appropriate mendoza outings (white water adventures, winery tours, tastings) & spent the rest of the afternoon recruiting two new friends to white water with us. we successfully convinced an entrepreneurial texan wine aficionado & a californian soon-to-be college graduate. with plans laid & energy levels low, the day turned into evening and we prepared ourselves for the asado.

from its inception our skills at asado-ing were glaringly immature. i was playing with large slabs of meat as philip was desperately trying to ignite a fire that would create the beautiful, necessary wood embers so integral to asado. struggling along, i made the industrious decision to enlist an argentine occupant of the hostel for help. he, innocently, obliged: huge mistake on his part. his asado prowess landed him in the position of action & he ended up taking over the show as i apologized aggressively & kept him company while he cooked me dinner. unfortunately, in the midst of the asado flurry, philip fell ill & retreated, mid-meat-making, to bed. this sudden sickness left me alone with a mass of meat & no carnivorous companion.

in an attempt to lessen the load, i peddled my plate o' meat throughout the hostel & made myself some friends in the process. i mean, let's be honest, who isn't disarmed into friendship with a girl & a plate of meat?

i was subsequently co-opted into a group of three aussies & one brit who had temporarily made hostel lao their home. the brit, who i affectionately call "oso" (spanish for "bear"), because of his burly, bearded mug, had been traveling southern america on a road bike; by the time i encountered him, he had already clocked 3,000 kilometers! the three aussies had all worked together in australia & had taken the brit in as their own after having met at lao. we stayed up into the wee hours of morning drinking argentinian beer & i proudly earned the title of "chugsy" because of my unprecedented ability to beat all of them at beer chugging contests. what an unexpected evening.


the infamous "chugerette" miranda.

argentina, laos, & italy.

while in uruguay we had been vehemently recommended a hostel in mendoza, boasting free wine every evening at eight, by some amiable swedes. taking their advice, we arrived at hostel lao our first morning in mendoza. serendipitously, and unbeknownst to us, we were in mendoza for the week of vendimia, the massive wine harvest festival that takes over the city with parades & events galore. after settling ourselves into our hostel, philip and i took to the streets and wandered our way around the handsome city. with tree lined streets and plazas spattered throughout, mendoza proved to be one of our favorite stops along the way. after getting a good feel for the city, we loaded up on groceries and made our way back to the hostel to partake in the free wine hour.

at this point i must dedicate a section to hostel lao. of the almost dozen hostels we stayed at in southern america, hostel lao was our shining star. everywhere i went i extolled the virtues of lao, even going so far as giving detailed directions from the bus station for people who i thought would dig the lao vibe. the hostel is run by an ex-pat brit & his argentine girlfriend. first of all, the place is immaculate, a factor you definitely come to appreciate along the way; there always seemed to be someone cleaning. the common areas were bathed with light & the courtyard was littered with hammocks. it is the kind of place that you just want to hang out at. with only three dormitory rooms & three private rooms, the small size was imbued even further with the familiarity between guests & staff. i cannot say enough about this place (obviously).

our first evening in mendoza began with tasty homemade lentil burritos and a fair share of free wine. the wine put out on the table each night is not stellar, but the liberty with which you can fill your glass makes the taste that much richer and the palette the more eager. our wine consumption was shared with an entertaining set which consisted of two brits, a new yorker, a belgian, a texan, and us. i am happy to say that i tried my first 2002 malbec that evening sean. this bottle was not part of the free wine repertoire but it did come our way without charge. we were privy to a few personal contributions to the wine table and we did not, how shall i say, resist. wine was a prevailing theme during our time in mendoza. after a pleasing time spent with libations, we made our way to a nearby plaza for the italian festival. unfortunately, our poor timing meant we were arriving at the tail end, affording us a ready excuse to get to bed early so as to refresh ourselves for our time in mendoza.

the wine mooch miranda.

farewell to los reartes.

our last day in los reartes was rainy & lazy. the beautiful sunny weather we had been afforded all week had vanished& it made our departure that much easier. we whiled the day away reading & snacking; an appropriate end to a week of relaxation. saying our farewells to julieta & tati, we took an evening bus from v.g.b. to mendoza; landing us in the famed argentine wine region the next morning.

the on-the-road again miranda.

maxin' & relaxin'.

our last full day in los reartes involved packing up the cabin, transferring all of our belongings to tati and julieta’s house, and heading to the river for a day in the sun. swimming, reading, dozing, and eating occupied our day and in the late afternoon we headed back to julieta and tati’s for some hammock lounging. philip’s mom was leaving that evening but philip and i were spending one more night at julieta and tati’s before making our way down to mendoza.

after bidding philip’s mother adieu we spent a relaxing evening at the log cabin, cherishing our last day in los reartes & enjoying our time with julieta & tati.

the hammocked miranda.

ascension & asado.

feeling in much better spirits, we headed to la cumbrecita, a pedestrian only village in the sierras. we climbed our way up to a beautiful, plunging waterfall and jumped into the refreshing 8 degree water. on the hike down we stopped for a picnic lunch and then made our way back into town for our return bus to los reartes. drained from a long day of bussing, hiking, and swimming, we decided to have an asado of our own. tati graciously ran the asado for us and we had a splendid meal underneath the stars.

the starlit miranda

"sick day."

perhaps it was the meat, but more likely it was just from all of my movement, day four in los reartes was my ‘sick day.’ i took a much needed break from moving and grooving and got the cottage to myself for the day. while philip and company were out and about, i spent the day sleeping, lounging, & reading.

once all had returned, i was feeling the skip coming back into my step. that evening i had invited everyone out to dinner as a thank you for inviting to the cottage and allowing me to partake in such a lovely vacation week. we went to the one restaurant in town & had ourselves an authentic argentine meal of intestine lining stew, empanadas, maize purees, and other delicacies not immediately coming to mind.

the recuperated miranda.

cheese, che, & chorizo.

our third day in los reartes brought an old friend of philip’s mom for a visit. we had since decided to make our way to alta gracia, a two hour drive north, the city which che guevara called home. a breath taking drive through the sierras brought us to a charming little city. our first stop was the Jesuit estancia, an impressive collection of stone buildings in the middle of the city that once housed a large Jesuit community. after wandering through the history filled buildings, philip and i relaxed in the park while his mom and her friend had themselves a guided tour (not particularly our style). we’d packed a substantial lunch of breads, cheeses, and fruits which we partook of in a waterfront, shaded park.

after lunch we made our way to the former home of che guevara’s family. full of relics of his time in alta gracia and beyond, it was a purview into the life of such a profoundly influential and dynamic man. lines of his poetry around every corner, letters to his wife and children, and photographs capturing famous and infamous moments this home is a well visited attraction in argentina.

we made our way back to v.g.b. and were treated to scrumptious coffee and pastries by philip’s mom’s friend; a delicious way to end a day of tourism.

and then i experienced my first…asado.

first of all, let me say, i broke my new found vegetarianism like it was my job. i figured if i was going to truly experience argentine culture, i had to partake in one of its largest facets: the meat.

asado, literally, means barbeque but, my friends, it is so much more than just a barbeque. asado is a way of life. it’s a process that, when all is said and done, takes about five hours. we were invited to an asado for friends at julieta & tati’s that evening an event was definitely anticipating.

in argentina there is no such thing as a gas grill and anything resembling it would be disgraceful. asado begins with either wood or coal that is lit and then let sit for between one or two hours in a pile, within the grilling area, so the coals or wood embers are glowing like a bat out of hell before any kind of cooking commences. once the coals are ready, they are transferred from the glowing pile to beneath the metal grill, then begins the parade of meats. asados, at bare minimum, have three cuts of meat but my first one had about six. from chorizo to marsilla (what i later found out to be blood sausage), i tried everything put on my plate. timing is so integral with so many cuts of meat and tati was the man for the job; such an impressive show.

the meat down here is just phenomenal. all grain fed and free range, it’s a veritable feast for the carnivore. (just to give a little perspective, there are more cows than people in argentina.) needless to say, i had a baptism by asado fire back into the meat eating world, and what a delicious fire it was.

the carnivorous miranda.

river relaxation

our one night of diversion at the hotel over, we packed ourselves up and made our way to the cabin for the remainder of our stay in los reartes. the morning was occupied by setting up shop, fridge stocking, and general settling in. after a delightful lunch of breads, cheeses, and fruits, we made our way down to the river and spent the afternoon exploring the river even further and reading on the shores. that evening we cooked up a huge pasta supper and ate ourselves into comfortable oblivion.

the river reigned miranda.

from argentina to germany.

i arrived in villa general belgrano bright-eyed and bushy tailed.  we were met by philip's cousin (julieta) & her boyfriend (tati) who live in a small town (los reartes) next to villa. 

los reartes, the small town in the province of cordoba, is situated on a beautiful, bumbling river with water so clear and clean it leaves little to the imagination. the whole area is surrounded by the sierras, a mountain range reminiscent of the rolling hills of england & scotland. there had been some confusion with the dates of the cabin rental so our first night in los reartes was spent at a local hotel. after we had settled ourselves into our charming, albeit musty, hotel, we sauntered down to the river to see where we would be spending the rest of our time in los reartes. julieta and tati live in a rustic log cabin with the river only seconds away and our cabin was a moment’s walk from their home; a more than pleasant setting for a week’s stay. with julieta and tati off to work, we decided to do some refreshing exploration through the river. pants hiked & walking sticks in hand, we braved the currents & calms. widely berthed & floored with beautiful water worn rocks, the river was an absolute delight. sated with exploration but hungry for sustenance, we found a small kiosk on the river that served sandwiches; a perfect respite.

after lunch we rewarded ourselves with a siesta.

caveat: siesta can make or break lives. usually between the hours of 1 and 4 or 5 in the afternoon, the entire south american world closes up shop (literally). the only thing to do is join the culture and have yourself a little siesta, because to do otherwise is futility at its peak.

recharged from our siesta, exploratory glands still pumping, we decided to hop on a bus and make our way into villa general belgrano. v.g.b. is an odd little place. settled by a group of german soldiers who had survived a shipwreck in uruguay during WWII, the german influences are more than subtle. german architecture, an oktoberfest, and beer steins sold at every other shop, v.g.b. feels more european than south american. after wandering the main drag & getting an idea of the requisite things to do in the area, we hopped back on the local bus to our hotel.

dinner at a local pizzeria of empanadas (a south american staple; basically, they are mini calzones usually filled with seasoned ground meat or ham and cheese or just cheese, or, let’s be honest, anything you darn well please) of all sorts of persuasions closed a lovely first day in los reartes.

the german (?) miranda.

logistics.

my last day in b.a. before hitting the road again was full of logistics & tea. i had a leisurely morning, dropped off my laundry to be done, & began organization for the rest of the trip. once we left b.a. we would not be back until my departure so i basically had to bring everything with me. i allowed myself a pleasant lunch out while philip & his mom did errands around town. i went to this jazzy little tea restaurant that give you hour glass timers so you can steep your tea for the exact appropriate amount of time. it was delicious & a nice treat. after several pots of tea & numerous chapters in my book, i took leave of the tea connection. that evening we were taking an overnight bus from b.a. to the cordoba province, the central part of argentina, for a week's stay at a cabin philip's mother had rented. with everything packed we made our way to the station & hit the road for an 11 hour ride. the transportation in argentina is unbelievably inexpensive & wonderfully comfortable. i had a seat that reclined almost completely, with a full leg rest; they served dinner that evening and breakfast the next morning & i slept like a baby all the way there.

the (bus)tling miranda.

hit the road.

absolutely refreshed & with a full day alone in b.a. at my fingertips i decided to explore a neighborhood that has been likened to the plateau in montreal called palermo. i wended the day away walking from park to park - taking a reading break here and there. there are parks everywhere & i lucked out with a gorgeous, sunny day. i traipsed my way through the botanical gardens & neighborhoods both delightful & delapidated. after over six hours of walking, my feet were about to turn their backs on me, so i headed back to the hostel. i afforded myself a quiet evening relaxing in the courtyard in the middle of the old converted mansion & met some interesting people from england, new zealand, and canada. i was relishing my time alone so i kept the socializing to a minimum & buried my head in my epic book - a welcome moment of calm after all of the movement.

the solitary miranda.

un dia de viajando.

our last day in uruguay was a practice in patience. we had three legs for the journey back from punta del este to b.a. the first two legs were unremarkable with a bus from the punta to montevideo then from montevideo to colonia. with a few hours to spare and a few hundred uruguayan pesos to rid ourselves of, we decided on a splurge for food (there isn´t much else to spend your money on in colonia). we found ourselves a great little bistro (for which we were clearly underdressed) & i had myself a wonderful caprese pasta. (nothing too much to gloat about yet dad, at this point in the trip; an entire entry on cuisine will soon be dedicated to you.) the rest of our time was spent wandering my beloved cobble stone streets, checking out all the funky restaurants, and wasting time. the last leg of the trip, the ferry back to argentina, sat docked, with everyone on it for almost two hours. the one redeeming part of this experience was the sunset we were privy to from our position on the water - what a view. we finally made it back to b.a. exhausted from over 14 hours of travel.

phil´s mom had arrived in b.a. a few days before and greeted us at the apartment on our return. with the small quarters, i chose to stay in a hostel in b.a. for the two nights we were stopping over so phil & his mom could have some q.t. and i my independence. weary & waning, i made it to the hostel just in time to crash. i had one of the best sleeps of my trip yet that night.

the back in b.a. miranda.

punta del este.

the second day in punta at first glance was to be dreary, cool, & rainy. but, as we breakfasted in the lovely glassed in common room at the hostel, the day began to brighten. with the prospect of rain a faint memory, phil & i headed down to the beach for a walk along the surf. the river side of the peninsula is very calm & jelly fish infested, whereas the ocean side has impressive tides & little sign of jellies. punta del este is a known surfing spot & the waves on the ocean side were telling of that. with a walk along the beach under our belts i decided to get my bathing suit on and brave the chilly waters. phil & i split up, he wasn't interested in swimming just yet, and i had a luxurious play in the refreshing cool waters. we met back at the hostel for a delightful lunch of bread, cheese, and salad & then lazed some of the afternoon away on the hammocks.

finally convinced of the merits of swimming, phil & i took a jaunt down the beach again. the tide was much stronger now so we got ourselves quite the workout. you had to be vigilant or you could end up pulled into more dangerous waters. even though more work, it was an exhilarating recess in the waves. back at the hostel i decided to rent a bike & explore the punta a little further. an australian friend of mine, whom we'd met at the hostel, decided to join me. we had a lovely ride all over the peninsula & were privy to an unbelievable sunset. i got an opportunity to see most of the area & by the time we headed back it was already dark.

phil & i made dinner & had since decided to hang out at the hostel & perhaps make our way to this outdoor rave at a farm about 20k from the punta. a pick-up time of midnight turned into 3:30 in the morning and by the time the van arrived phil & i were thoroughly engrossed in partying it up with the people at our hostel & decided not to spend the money to go to a party we were uncertain would even be our style. a decision that was all for the best because we made some new friends, exchanged tips, & got email addresses left and right for future contacts. pleasantly tired from a long day of swimming, biking & socializing, bed beckoned.

the sea swept miranda.

a familiar feeling destination.

with less than a great love for montevideo, phil and i decided to take leave of the city sooner rather than later. we breakfasted like kings, packed our things, & made our way to the bus station. fret not mother, we decided on public transportation to our next destination, punta del este. punta del este is another peninsula but it runs north/south with the western shore on the rio de la plata and the eastern shore on the atlantic ocean. as lonely planet posits, the 'punta' checklist is: "skimpy bikini (men and women), designer sunglasses (imitations will be sniggered at), dancing shoes. bring plenty of: cash, attitude, all-night party stamina." lonely planet was not far off the mark. what a change of scene from montevideo to punta. i felt as though i had been transported to miami beach.

we got into punta in the late afternoon & easily found our hostel. it had a gorgeous view of the beach & hammocks out on the patio for our enjoyment - it had a great aura to it. we got ourselves situated (our room had a view of the water too) & decided to walk down & around the punta (the point). it was a beautiful area and the rocky views off the end of the point were breathtaking. we even saw some dozing sea lions along the way.

with prices so exorbitant, we decided to save our cash & make our own food for the two nights there. we obviously were not the only ones in our hostel with that idea and found a shockingly young, english speaking community at our hostel. we met a few fellow canadians & americans as well as some australians, swedes, & dutch folks. our first night in punta was rather tame & we just hung out on the beach & took to our beds relatively early hoping for sunny weather.

the beach bum miranda.