Free

Free

A cloudless blue sky is cut short by the jagged edges of Los Andes.

She sits alone listening to the rumbles of a mountain stream,

Her mind floating between the sun beating down upon her shoulders

And the small things she loves about this world.

Racing down the mountains, around sharp corners, and pushing furiously over rocks,

Crystal clear water fills the rocky creek.

While only two meters wide,

This stream is a vital life source to the life around it.

A butterfly lands on the rock next to her.

White wings capped with black edging flutter peacefully

From the rock, to a dandelion and off into the abyss.

The mountains call her and she feels at home.

She has not had a moment like this since she left home;

She has not stopped to rest,

Or simply pause to enjoy the sunshine as it beats down upon her.

In the city, she is in motion and focused.

She is held down by the square city block, the pressures of society,

And the never-ending commotion of people, honking cars, and city streets.

But here, she is free.

Free to dance with fire,

To dip her toes into an icy river,

To throw stones as far and long as she can,

To lose herself in a sea of stars,

To breathe the wild air.

Free is what she needs.

Only in these moments, in the foothills of the mountains,

Can she see the damage she has done to herself.

Her mind is focused,

But not on planning, accomplishing, regretting, or worrying.

She examines the precise angles of the mighty peaks in front of her.

She counts the stars, losing track after the first hundred.

She studies herself and her inner workings.

As she returns to her average life,

She must not forget the silence of the wilderness

And how to silence her mind.

She must pause like a butterfly on a dandelion

And shine like a star in the night sky.

She must remember to set herself free.

Re Quemada

I have been a bad blogger... In my defense, I am doing homework instead of writing blogs. The last post that had content about my life was almost a month ago, oops. Anyways, here is an update about my Argentinean September.

I finally have a schedule and have decided on classes! It is great to finally have this figured out. What isn't great is that I wasn't connected to the online modules for my classes for a while and I missed over three hundred pages of reading. Lets just say when I talked to my professors, I may or may not have over used the classic "soy una estudiante de intercambio. No lo entendi." Have I done it all? Nope. Am I going to? Nope.

Other than that enormous blunder, my classes are going really well. I am taking a class about the Social History of Argentina, which is just about what it sounds, not too interesting but not entirely boring. I am also taking Drawing I! It is fun but my professor doesn't like me (I deserve it - I don't listen to any of her instructions). In spite, I call her evil-witch-lady. My favorite but hardest class is The Problems with Social Control and Violence. The class revolves for the most part about Social Work but we talk about things that I am incredibly interested in. Our current unit is talking about the Mendocino Prison System and the human rights violations that happen mere kilometers from where I am living.

While that class has only confirmed that I want to study Human Rights, my life in Mendoza has flipped my world upside down and I am changing my major! I realized that I have absolutely no desire to ever study Spanish Literature or even learn Portuguese. What a revelation, right? After a few serious chats, a couple of emails, and many night staring at my ceiling, I haven't decided what I am changing my major too. I have a feeling that I am going to end up in an environmental field but nothing is set in stone yet!

My life in Mendoza has become incredibly normal and I have settled. I know which buses to take, where to get cheap coffee, the best place to buy trail mix, even how to look less like a gringo, which is really hard when you have white-blonde hair and blue eyes. I am happy here. I am home.

Merely hours ago I got off the bus from one of the coolest weekends I have had here! Madison, Forest and I rented a tent and some sleeping bags and took off early Saturday morning with no plan and heavy packs. Our first night was spent in Potrerillos, a town in the mountains an hour and a half from Mendoza. We popped our tent next to the vibrant turquoise lake and made ourselves at home. We cooked pasta over a fire and let it burn down to coals as the sun disappeared behind the mountains and stars filled the sky.

Sunday morning, we packed up and decided to head to Las Vegas, an even smaller town twelve kilometers away. We started walking with our thumbs out and soon enough we were picked up by a lovely woman. Once in town, we scarfed down some empanadas and drank some local beer before wandering to the top of a desolate cerro where we set up camp. Forest tried, and failed, to make rice and beans but no one was upset because soon enough we were sipping whisky under the most beautiful stars I have ever seen in my life. Imagine this: a cloudless, moonless night in the mountains, free from the light pollution of the city and absolutely silent. We fell asleep drunk on the stars (and the whisky). Around 4:30 in the morning, all of us woke up because we were now sober and rocks were jamming into our backs. Unable to fall back asleep, the three of us sang the Beatles and went back out to look at the stars. This is a moment I will never forget.

After getting a few more hours of sleep, we packed up camp once again and started our journey to Vallecitos. Instead of walking along the road to get there, we decided to just cut across a few cerros and free trail everything. It worked perfectly. Travel time was cut in half and soon enough we found ourselves at the road to take us all the way there however we never made it to the actually town/mountain. We stopped at an arroyo (a river that only runs during certain months of the year) and got distracted. We swam, skinny dipped, took way too many pictures, then napped in the shade. There was a thin strip of land on the other side of the river and without hesitation, we crossed and set up camp. This was by far the prettiest campsite but least convenient. We had to throw wood across the river to start a fire and it was a little damp but all of us were happy. Repeat making dinner, having a bonfire, and watching the stars and you have an accurate synopsis of our last night.

We woke up and hung out around camp for a few hours before making the trek back to Mendoza. Besides forgetting sunscreen and taking a couple of tumbles, this trip was next to perfect. While I am happy to sleep in a bed and not smell like I haven't showered in a few days, I would much rather be teasing each other inside the tent or roasting in the sun. I keep playing all of the little moments from this weekend in my mind and I am still in awe of how amazing this trip was.

I know I skipped a bunch of stuff but ya esta sufficiente.
Besitos.

Night One: Potrerillos.

Master Chef Argentina.

A rare foto of Forest smiling.

Night Two: Las Vegas.

Miss BadFart Queen of the Oatmeal

and Duchess BitchFinger.

Night (day) three: Arroyo en Vallecitos.

Making the trek home - light packs and happy hearts.

The God of Small Things

I have recently started reading The God of Small Things and was inspired by Roy's style of writing (and my lack of crazy, wild stories for this week) to make a blogpost dedicated to the small things I have come to love in Mendoza.

When the streetlights flicker on even though there is no use for them yet.
Having to duck my head to avoid the branches of palm trees during my runs.
The way the cool air clings to the back of your throat as dusk settles in.
The wide range of pitch in Argentinian speech.
Taking the first bite into a delightfully warm medialuna.
Sobremesa, or the time spent at the table, talking after a meal.
The way the mountains become snow capped as the temperatures drop.
The royalty of Argentine keys.
Cafe con leche.
When the sun dips its head behind the mountain peaks and leaves the sky an array of warm yellows, pale pinks, and baby blues.
Friendly street dogs that transform themselves into your protectors and friends.
The tradition of drinking mate with a group of friends, classmates, or even strangers.
The power of the winter sun.
Always knowing which way is west (I'll give you a hint; its the direction of the mountains).
The vibrant colors of the street art.
Having words in Spanish that express emotions more clearly than in English.
Knowing you can't leave an Argentine gathering without kissing every, single person on the cheek.
"Que mala leche."
Never being father than viente cuadradas (twenty blocks) from something important.
Sleeping under a pile of wool blankets when the winter temperatures actually come around.
Surviving El Zonda.
Running past a lake, palm trees, and a spectacular view of the mountains all in the same kilometer.
Living in a community with a developed transit system, even though it never runs on time.
Escaping from the noise of the city into the quiet of the mountains.
Being in Malbec territory.
The way more green leaves appear everyday as we enter into spring.

Even though I have struggled, I am beginning to fall madly in love with this country. I have never lived in a place where people are as friendly or the winters are as warm. Mendoza is starting to feel like home.

Besitos.

Cafe Petrona al lado de Plaza Espana.

Old picture but good memories.

When you're too hungover to drink the good free wine.

May or may not have stole the fancy olive oil from the table.