Life As Canvas

Diving in Cozumel

It’s summertime in Ushuaia, the city at the end of the world. We flew down here from Buenos Aires two days ago and after melting in the heat of beaches and steamy jungles full of butterflies and spiders, I hide in my raincoat to hike up mountainsides of glaciers and consider boat trips through ice bergs.

Last week I spent three days exploring Iguazu, the gigantic falls between Argentina and Brazil.

It’s one of the biggest in the world – which makes it hard to take the whole thing in when you see it, to imagine it’s formation, to fathom the masses of water bursting through the jungle and hurtling down over a crack in the earth.

From above I thought of cartoons I used to watch where unsuspecting friendly talking animals are enjoying a tranquil boat ride when suddenly, they see a cloud ahead. But wait – it’s not a cloud! It’s a waterfall! Everybody jump!!

I spent my time on the Argentina side weaving in and out of leafy vines on paths that lead in and around the falls, over them, under them, to the other side.

Then the next day I did it again in Brazil. The parks are clean, efficiently run, full of tourists, but well worth the trip.

Also did Paraguay in a day to seek out good deals on camera equipment. Didn’t find much, though. I think Paraguay would be a good country to explore for anyone looking for selva (jungle) sans tourists. One day, perhaps. This time, though, I needed to get down to Patagonia before summer turned sour. The destination was Ushuaia, the city the farthest south in Argentina, and some say the world, though Chile’s Puerto Williams is a little farther south.

Ushuaia is part of the Tierra del Fuego (land of fire) which is the lowest tip of the continent and the Argentinians refer to it as “el Fin del Mundo,” the end of the world. If it weren’t for the multitude of backpackers here, it would certainly feel like the end of the world. I keep thinking to myself, “It must be nice here in the summer,” but in fact, it IS summer, with long days that last from 5am sunrise to 9pm sunset. But, much like Oregon autumns, every day there is rain and grey. The land is full of jagged glacier-topped mountains and milky turquoise lakes and streams.

Peet moss lines much of the ground, acting as a sponge and making trail walking a soggy affair. And beavers… 50 of them were introduced here in the 40’s for hunting and now they’ve multiplied to an awesome sum in the tens of thousands and they certainly add to the eerie feel of the place, as fallen trees and pencil-shaped stumps spread out across the landscape. And then there’s the mud. But it’s an enchanting place that seems familiar in some ways (must be the rain) and really far away from home in others.

Yesterday the Belgian and I hiked for about 7 hours from the forest up into the mountains and scrambled up rock cliffs to peer down at a glacier and it’s frigid greeny-blue lakes. While we lingered up there slipping across the snow and taking millions of photos, the clouds started to dip down towards the valley. Though the day had begun in sunlight, by the time we started to trace out our return route back down the rocky cliffs I was starting to feel scattered raindrops hit my face and later while we were trying to find footing among the crumbling rocks, it was fully raining. My legs, tired from the hike up, started shaking. I was getting nervous. But in time we made it to flat land and squished our way back across the peet moss bogs. This is Patagonia!

Later we retired to the hostel for spaghetti and an interesting mixture of culture.

I’ve landed in a hostel brimming with young Israeli travelers where sounds of laughter, guitar playing, and Hebrew jokes ring around the rooms. Everywhere I go in Argentina I meet young Israelis who explain to me that after their 3 years of military service is over, they’re finally free and many like to travel to South America. Everyone has been extremely welcoming and friendly and I find it strange and funny the way the world works when I think about how I’m learning more about Israel in the southernmost tip of Argentina than I ever did back home.

Today the rain is relentless and the Belgian and I are going to commit ourselves to a very important task – laundry.

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