Para? Paro

Another two weeks have passed and as always I am going to begin this blogpost with a reflection on the paradigm of time. I lack understanding of how each minute passes as if it was a decade yet I have catapulted forward weeks in time. I am in awe of how little I feel like I am doing but how much it accumulates to create an enormous sum.

Nothing tremendous has happened (my dear reader you will find that this is a common theme with me); I have spent the last two weeks drifting in and out of friends houses, trying to figure out if I have classes or not because the professors are on strike, going to parties, and doing my favorite thing: taking siestas and drinking mate. I truly feel like I am Argentine.

During this past weekend I went back to Chile (I know) for our long break. I went with Leah from Minnesota and Jordyn from New York. We spent the weekend roaming the colorful streets of Valparaiso and lounging on the beaches of Vina del Mar. I was witness to a potential street bomb; there was a suspicious bag left in the street so being who I am, I waited less than half a block away to watch the juggernaut disarm it. While I'm not sure if it was actually a bomb or not, there was a loud boom but no fire, make of it what you will.

Again, I am going to leave you with pictures because that is far easier for me and most likely more entertaining for you.

Besitos.

Tierra del Sol y del Buen Vino

Well, I have been back in Mendoza for almost two weeks now and though my life has consisted of long siestas (to catch up on my lack of sleep over the last three months), endless hours with mate in hand, and long sessions of music and some form of artistic expression, the days have flown by. I am the most relaxed I have been in a long time.

As a form of self reflection, I would like to attribute my relaxed attitude to cultural adaptation. Before I left for my travels, I was filling my schedule with nothing and even though it was enjoyable, I still felt uneasy - I wasn't comfortable relaxing and letting myself just be. Now, all I want to do is exist; I want to do nothing all day long and when responsibilities appear out of thin air, I choose to ignore them. To my yankee friends that are reading this and thinking that I have transformed into a lazy human being and that having an empty schedule is a sign of weakness, I feel sorry for you fore I was once you. I had let the world take over my life and dictate my schedule, I planned everything down to the minute and I kept myself in constant motion. I never want to return to this because I am happier when I am free. I urge you fast paced gringos to let go and breathe for a change.

Anyways, now that I have insulted the majority of my very small audience, the things I have done (when I was not sitting under a tree with a book and some snacks) are: met the new exchange students and caught up with old friends, played ultimate frisbee more times than I can count, went to la festival de la Vendimia, attended a pool party, marched for International Women's Day, hiked Cerro Arco at night to see a concert on top of a mountain, essentially given up vegetarianism again, spent the weekend in Cacheuta as an IFSA excursion where we went hiking, rafting, and horseback riding.

I would elaborate more on each of these things but my inability to do anything productive is telling me that I am too lazy and that pictures would be easier.

Besitos mis amores.

The Art of Traveling Alone

The Art of Traveling Alone

A simple recipe for self-discovery and adventure: a few parts courage, a dash of social skills, a pinch of good luck and an open ended ticket. Be sure to sift out the fear – why not make it a double dose of courage? Add in the overwhelming desire to see new things. Don’t forget your mental first aid kit, or your physical one for that matter. No one can prepare you for what you’re about to experience so hold on tight, or let go if you so choose, and step forward.

Three months turned into two months turned into one month turned into done.

Nothing I could say in this blogpost could convey what I have experienced over the last few months; I have pushed my self to extremes mentally and physically, I have walked among strangers and lived out of a backpack, I have lived for the small moments and collected the big ones. I can only describe the last three months as the greatest months of my life. I am returning to the real world with a plethora of stories, like the time I went deaf on one side and the doctor told me he didn’t have the tool to look in my ear or when I ran up 140 flights of stairs before dawn to be the first person in Machu Picchu. But more importantly, I am returning with knowledge of myself; I am a fun fact enthusiast, an active thinker, a pancake artist, an avid swimmer, a lover of all things unknown - I am Amelia Tjaden. Looking back at who I was when I trotted onto the first bus of many and comparing that person to the author of this blogpost, I see two different people. The first being an overly extroverted individual wrapped up in the concerns of the world and of herself; the second more relaxed and introverted, with a love for herself that no one could ever take away.

I wish my words would take you, dear reader, on the journey I have just returned from – I wish I could make you understand what it felt like to ride a bike through the driest desert on the planet or spend an evening with a Quechua family on an Island in Lake Titcaca - but to truly understand what I have experienced you would have needed to be present during the highs, the lows, and the moments spent in utter solitude.

I am excited to see where I am taken as I leave my dreamlike state and enter into the real world. I can only hope that my clarity persists and that the world is kind to me.

Mendoza, here I come.

Wrapping Up

Day 77-80: Arica and Iquique, Chile

Sometime on our way back to Arequipa I made the rash decision to skip Bolivia and return to Argentina through the north of Chile. I took an overnight bus to the border, hopped in a taxi, and made my way to the beach town of Arica. I spent the morning relaxing on the beach before food poisoning or the flu decided to grace me with its presence - I will spare you the details of the hours spent in the beach bathroom thinking I was about to die. The next day I headed to another beach town to recover from my sickness. Iquique’s nickname is the Miami of Chile and after walking around and spending hours on the beach, I would completely agree. The water is Caribbean blue and the sun sets perfectly over the ocean. I decided to give myself another mini vacation and spent three days enjoying the simplicity of sunshine and salt water.

Warning: the complaining starts here.

Day 81-82: Jujuy, Argentina

My first day back in the wonderful country that I call home was spent on what was supposed to be a 16 hour bus ride but turned into a 22 hour bus ride. We were delayed for an hour because of a flat tire then five god damn hours at the border. Once we finally crossed the imaginary line that divides la Cordillera de los Andes, I fell into a deep sleep waking up with the inability to hear out of one of my ears. Now I wish I could tell you what had happened other than the assumption that elevation change and salt water blocked sound waves from entering my ear, but when I went to the doctor (that I had to pay for before getting seen) they checked my vital signs then said “we don’t have the tool to look in your ear but you could try chewing some gum.” I spent a few seconds trying to figure out if I understood correctly, then a few more trying to figure out if they were joking, then making the realization that they were completely serious.

Day 83-85: Salta, Argentina.

After a few days my ear finally cleared and I rejoined the world of normal hearing people but I also ran into another problem: one of my credit cards had charges that were not mine. I spent my first day in the beautiful city of Salta, running around in an overdramatic and chaotic manner trying to figuring out what to do and get an argentine phone. I cannot tell you how many times I muttered as if this day couldn’t get any worse. Eventually, I gave up and tried to enjoy the beautiful churches and quiet plazas of Salta. The next day, to get away from the problems that were piling up, I took a tour to see the world’s second largest salt flats and the northern cities. Basically, I spent thirteen hours on a bus to spend half an hour at the salt flats but was it worth it? Yes. They were incredible. Of course, being the most ridiculous person I know, I had to taste the salt (do not recommend) and wander off as far as I could, delaying my bus and forming a search party. We also visited Argentina’s rainbow mountain; color wise more impressive than Peru’s but significantly less satisfying hike wise.

I spent my last morning here running around the city and visiting the Museum of Archeology of la Alta Montana. It gives you an in-depth look at the Incan civilization (which is incredibly impressive and by far larger than the ancient civilizations of Central America) and has mummies. In the museums secret vaults, they have three different child mummies, but for conservation reasons, they only show one at a time. Very cool.

Day 86-87: Tucuman, Argentina.

I wish I could say my luck had gotten better but after waking up a few days in a row with fresh bug bites, I searched my bag and found bed bugs. I threw a temper tantrum then got to work washing, disinfecting, and spraying everything I own.

I made a friend in my hostel and we spent the following day wandering through the city. We ended up eating lunch at a vegetarian buffet and I can’t tell you how many plates of food I ate but it was probably too many. Afterwards, we walked to the movie theater to see what was playing only to be handed free tickets to Moses and the Ten Commandments. Moses was a hunk that got all the ladies and god was portrayed as a flaming tornado. We concluded that the film was actually an Israeli propaganda film to subconsciously persuade the people of Latin America to support Israel in the Israeli Palestinian conflict. Upon leaving the movie theater, we were pulled aside for a filmed interview. Not being religious but also not wanting to be insulting, my responses were something like “good images, very good themes, very religious.”

Day 88-90: La Rioja, Argentina.

After realizing that I had no idea what to do in La Rioja, the owner of my hostel invited me to go with him to the mountains for the afternoon. He took me around, stopping every ten minutes to show me a viewpoint or a rock formation or something then would give me a boatload of information and continue. To his surprise, I asked him if this was actually a tour and that didn’t go over too well. He was very insulted that I thought I was going to have to pay for his generosity and in full machismo fashion, made a point to pay for everything from then on. Feeling bad, I agreed to go dancing with him later that night. He got schwastey and I ended up walking home early to the comfort of my new friends at the hostel.

A day to relax then the inevitable journey to Argentina’s Grand Canyon. The bus ride out there was probably one of the most memorable of my entire travels; a river had flooded and was flowing over a bridge. After watching a man walk across, scanning the water for things that would make it impassable, the bus crossed the overflowing bridge. A while later, we were at the front doors to the park, only to be told that the park was closed due to rains (which only happens once or twice a year) and we were now stranded in the middle of nowhere. Not wanting to waste my last day, I began hitchhiking to another park with similar, but smaller canyons. It didn’t take long for a man driving across Argentina to pick me up. I ended up at El Chiflon and was given a guided tour by Paco who clearly knew nothing about the formations other than do you see that rock? Can you see the face in it? But it was beautiful and absolutely worth it. After the tour, an argentine family gave me a ride to the next town and I was on my way back to La Rioja.

In a few hours I will be home in Mendoza, unable to comprehend where the time has gone. It has been an incredible three months and I wouldn’t change them for the world (apart from the getting sick or dealing with bed bugs).

Besitos.

Peru

It has been quite a while since I sat down to do this…

Day 69-71: Cusco, Peru

After getting back from the Peruvian jungle, I spent a few more days in the capital city of the Incan civilization. I explored the city more thoroughly, visited the chocolate museum, ate lunch with friends from my trek to Machu Picchu, and relaxed. The second day back in Cusco I thought it was a good idea to join a difficult hike to the rainbow mountain. My first mistake was not realizing how tired my legs were from my trek, and the second was not checking the altitude of the hike I was about to go on. Let’s just say that I should have thought a little bit harder about climbing to 5,200 meters after six days of hiking. However, the ability to say that I did it and the views from the top made every oxygen deprived step worth it.

Day 72-73: Arequipa, Peru

I arrived at the crack of dawn in Peru’s white city. My friend from Denmark promptly arrived to pick me up and give me an actual bed to sleep in. Adri took me in for a few days, showed me her city, and had me try alpaca (which I would describe as pork tasting). She had to work for some of the time while I was there so I did some of my own exploring, seeing Alpaca museums and finding an H&M.

Day 74-76: Camana, Peru

Adri got the weekend off from her job and next thing you know, we are on a bus to a beach city for a weekend of pura juerga. Camana is in the middle of the desert and had been destroyed by the 2001 tsunami so all you can see is ocean and pure sand. We spent the days laying out on the beach in the hottest sun I have ever seen (UV Index of 17) and the nights bouncing between beach parties and night clubs. I ended up seeing a very famous Peruvian band perform live and danced my heart out in the sand. Our second morning I was left in charge of breakfast so what do I make? Pancakes, of course. However, being in a country with no syrup and a love for sweetened and condensed milk, the pancakes were devoured with heaps of the sticky white substance that always confused me as a child.