Where Have I Been?

After my last post, I spent two more days in Ushuaia, the first one hiking all the way to the Chilean border with a British chap I met at the bus station. Then I boarded a boat and after two and a half days at sea, reached the shores of Antarctica.

Ten days later I returned to Ushuaia. From there I flew to Salta, in the Northwestern part of Argentina, and spent the next couple of days travelling to villages in the area and hiking through the mountains. One afternoon was spent at the Salt Flats and finally two days travelling around the area of Cafayete.

From there it was off to Buenos Aires, with a short trip into Uruguay before finally heading back to New York. Thus ended three months of life changing journey. My friends Koby and Debi, who had crashed in my apartment over Christmas weekend, had left me a bottle of whiskey – just what I needed to get started up again with real life.

(Pictures from the trip can be found on my Facebook page, and I’m sorry for leaving out all the details – there is just too much to write and too little time to do it any justice).

Way Down South

After a full day of airplanes and airport, I arrived in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. It’s beautiful, albeit ridiculously cold. Nightfall being sometime past 11 PM, there was still time to go take some photos at the nearby pier. Click here to see.

Iguazu 2

The day started with a trip to the Hummingbird Park which was right across the street from my hotel. I actually had a difficult time finding it because it turns out the “park” is actually a woman’s back yard. She was very friendly and let me in although technically she doesn’t open till afternoon. We sat on the benches watching the birds and chatted while she fed her baby. It is one of the most serene places on Earth and well worth the 10 Pesos she charges.

From there I walked to the port. Correction: I walked at least 1 kilometer in the wrong direction and then to the port. Turning left at the port I trekked another kilometer or so along the bank of the River Iguazu until reaching Hilto Tres Fronteras, where Argentina, Paraguay, and Brazil all meet up. The views are stunning.

In the afternoon, I rode out to Iguazu Forest in the afternoon for hiking, ziplining, and rappelling. Everyone on the trip was great, though I hung out mostly with Elizabeth, an Argentinean researching adventures excursions for her travel company, and Zainab, a wild Aussie chick you’d never believe was a neuroscientist back home. Hiking back to the truck after the rappelling, we spotted a massive waterfall. Without thinking Zay and I ran in. Elizabeth finally jumped in too, and when the guides noticed we weren’t with the group anymore one of them was sent back to find out what had happened (we told them Zay fell and I jumped in to save her, though that didn’t much explain why Elizabeth was drenched).

During the drive back to town we stopped at a Native village where they sell handmade trinkets. The homes are all small wooden huts with no electricity or running water, and the people eat giant ants as a delicacy. They believe the ants are good for the brain.

Pictures from Iguazu

Iguazu Falls

Puerto Iguazu is a quaint little town full of hostels, some restaurants, and a few mini markets. There is a bus terminal, one working ATM, one broken ATM, and two dance clubs. Most of the tourists here are Brazilian or from Paraguay, and this is where they stay when they are going to visit the famous Iguazu waterfalls.

From the airplane, the weather didn’t look promising and by the time I checked into the hotel, torrential rains had knocked out electricity to the entire city. Armed with a $3 poncho and a $2 round trip bus ticket, I headed to the falls (leaving my photo gear behind was frustrating).

There is a reason they call this place “Niagara on Viagra.” It is about twenty times the size of Niagara, and words simply cannot describe the beauty here or the power that drives it. I met three wonderful girls from Paraguay. Liza is a doctor, Martin a surgical assistant, and Mariely is an administrator at the hospital where they all work together.

Together, we hiked to “Garganta Del Diablo” (The Devil’s Throat), the largest of the falls, so called because of the earsplitting noise of the water. Afterwards we went on a boat ride into the river, though Martin was afraid and decided to meet us back at the station. From the boat we saw a few toucans, two alligators, and Mariely swore she saw a serpent occasionally poking its head above the water. After the ride, on the hike back, we saw tons of butterflies and tried, unsuccessfully, to catch one.

Back at the station, the girls had to rush to catch the bus back to Paraguay, and I continued on to the two other major hikes in the area – the Upper Falls trail, with astounding views of the falls, and the Lower Falls trail, which takes you underneath the falls.

Pictures from Iguazu

Shabbat in Recoleta

Recoleta is one of Buneos Aires’ trendiest and most upscale neighborhoods. Along with its central location, I thought this would be the ideal place to stay. My hotel was also conveniently located down the block from the local Chabad house.

The Chabad Rabbi in Recoleta is a saint. Despite his originating from New York City, he sports a wide smile and exudes warmth. He led the Friday night services, which were followed by Kiddush. Then a group of us walked to his house for dinner. I met some really great people, and the food was fantastic.

Services in the morning were followed by a hot cholent Kiddush, and someone from the community invited me for lunch. Afterwards, I walked to Parque de las Ceres. The Buenos Aires equivalent of Central Park, it was full of sunbathers (there’s no beach in Buenos Aires), dog walkers, and noisy children. I did not feel out of place wearing my yamika and in fact passed several other religious Jews along the way. Trekking out further to Jardin Japones (the Japanese Gardens) turned out to be a disappointment. There is a $2 entrance fee and I was cashless, and I got lost on the way back. Exhausted, I finally staggered into Chabad for mincha, and stayed till havdala and the end of Shabbat.

Bon Voyage

For those of you that haven’t been following my life of late, here’s the quick summary: two months ago I sublet my Manhattan apartment and left everything behind to go spend time in Jerusalem, near the café-clad streets of Emek Refaim. I left the Holy City earlier this week, and after a series of stopovers, cancelled flights, and too few martinis, I am now en route to South America.

Approximately fifty percent of my luggage is kosher food. Wondering how to stave hunger over the next few weeks has become a bit of an obsession, so it’s not surprising that when I found free kosher humus-dip packets at an airport condiment stand I grabbed one and placed it snug inside my pocket.

Airports are a funny place, if you can think positively and let go of the nuisance that is modern day air travel. I have encountered two people walking dogs through the terminal, a Rasta man using a bulging sack as his carry on, and one woman who asked if I would kindly open my jacket so she can read my shirt.