11 jan, 9.45pm
And I’m off! Just me, a backpack, and the tote bag I got from Jeopardy. Argentina for a night, then Salvador and Rio for 2 weeks, off to Johannesburg and into Cape Town, then to Bangkok, and finally Sydney, from where I’ll be making excursions to NZ, Fiji, who knows where? and ending the whole party in Hawaii in May. Packing for this trip was really fun to think about, and the ultimate situation is a good one. Since everywhere I’m going is down-right hot, in the full swing of the southern hemisphere’s summer, light packing seemed like the way to go. Minimal clothes (2 pants, 2 skirts, 2 shorts, 7 shirts, 2 bathing suits, one long sleeve shirt and a rain jacket), a sham-wow/towel, a very light sleeping bag, some essential tools (headlamp, padlocks, clothespins, alarm clock, power converters, camera, goggles…), basic toiletries, a little computer and a book… My whole pack weighs 10 kgs (22 lbs), which renders it light enough to be a carry-on piece of luggage. Four months worth of essentials in the overhead compartment! Fellow travelers have been impressed. It feels so good to know that if it came down to it, I could live a very happy life with very few things.
Leaving Mom and Leslie at the airport was no fun. I started to get that flippy feeling in my stomach that makes you wonder what you’re getting yourself into. More than fearing danger or “bad people,” I fear the unknown elements of travel. Living in Sydney and NYC taught me that no matter where you are, there are potential threatening situations, and you always, always, always have to be on your toes. Hell, I’ve felt threatened in Belmar! When traveling, being “nice” and being trusting are two very different things: one will render you normal and inconspicuous and safe, and the other, well, could be bad! So I’ve been psyching myself up to be hyper-vigilant, confident, and chill. Hence, my actual fear is not the dangerous encounter. It is the moment when you walk out of the airport door, with no travelling companion, not speaking the language, not knowing where to go or how to get there… But these moments conclude with a nice, clean bed in a hostel that the bus brought you to, with nice roommates and helpful employees who can recommend a great restaurant to get a steak or a nice promenade for an evening stroll. What was exciting and scary becomes a pleasant experience, and ultimately a simple memory devoid of the frightening anticipation that preempted and resulted in it. Funny how fear and courage transform into each other after all is said and done.
Let the fun begin! I’ve arrived in Buenos Aires, en route to Salvador da Bahia, and received a predictably Latin welcome. All flights were lovely, with chatty co-sitters and endless movie selections (Dumb and Dumber is still really funny…). Disembarking in Lima at 6am for 40 minutes seems like a dream. My only real recollection is of seeing the potholder Leslie got there a few hours before I was there! There was a heavy cloud cover over Peru, so I couldn’t see the Andes from above. But as we approached Argentina, the skies brightened and the clouds rolled away. January at 2pm in Buenos Aires is hot, I found out, but luckily a 60 year old female backpacker from Edgewater, NJ, and I found a (mildly) air conditioned bus to take us into the city. The vegetation was interesting, part deciduous/conifer but with eucalypts mixed in. What made it more interesting were the people enjoying it. Imagine driving on the Parkway and seeing dozens of cars pulled over, parked in the shade beneath a young tree, with couples laying on picnic blankets nearby. It was an unusual use of public land, for sure. As the city approached and buildings began to pop up, it was clear that this place is not impoverished by any means. Yes, some buildings were old and dirty, but clean laundry and potted plants dotted the rooftops, conjuring images of tidy people living tidy lives.
I arrived at the hostel in the center of town. My pack was starting to feel heavy, and I began to sweat as soon as I got into the building. I could hear them mentioning the air conditioners in Spanish to all of the people in line in front of me, which I deduced meant they were broken, or the power was out, or something. When it came to be my turn, Diego gave me $10 less change than I was owed (he apologized), handed me the keys to a room on the ninth floor, and then casually mentioned that the elevator was broken for right now, but that it would be fixed shortly, along with the air conditioners. So up I went the ten flights to my room, only to find that the locker assigned to me had a little padlock on it, so I couldn’t gain access. Four repair men, three trips up and down the stairs, two languages, and a lock cutter later, I got my belongings tucked away, jumped in the shower (it was freezing!), and headed out to see a bit of the city. I walked around the river Puerto Madero, and watched the sunset with the company of a beautiful golden retriever and her owner. A solo big, meaty dinner followed, and now I am killing time in my hostel room, waiting until 11pm to catch a cab to the bus station, so I can get the last bus (midnight) to the airport, so I can make my 4am flight to Salvador via Rio. Phew! I’ll be glad to be settled in one place after all of this jumping around. One thing that has bolstered my confidence is that people speak to me in Spanish, and seem surprised when I tell them I don’t speak much, and ask them to speak slowly. My plan of blending in has worked so far, which is just what I want. I am craving being low-key, going on solo missions to different cities and beaches and museums, walking countless miles past all sorts of scenes and scenarios, exhausting myself during the days and sleeping early and well each night. Partying is nowhere on my radar right now (I’m not just saying that to make you happy, Mom!), but being serene in unfamiliar places is. Brasil it is!
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