Sink or Swim

This will probably be a long post:

Now that I have settled back into the kilombo reality of BsAs, I can reflect on the dream that was this past weekend. I embarked on a solo adventure to Entre Rios, the province above Buenos Aires. I booked a one-way trip to Colon, but before I made it there, I experienced an unforgetable night in the city. The highlights of this evening included: hardcore mingling with portenos at Tutti i Fiocchi, my home-stay family's bar, ripping shots of jager with my new friend Troy, freestyle-mania with an audience, and constantly offending the Paris Hilton of Argentina...An important to note about this evening is that I only received an hour of sleep and awoke equally as drunk as I when I layed my head to rest. Somehow I made it to the Retiro bus station across town; and after an ice cream breakfast, I was listo for the mysterious road ahead.

The ride to Colon moved like a fat kid through chocolate cake. I did some extreme powernapping and deep reading of "The Seven Madmen" by Robert Arlt (THIS BOOK IS AMAZING! It's frightening how beautifully it is written). When I jumped off the bus in Colon, I scanned the area and witnessed nothing but dirt roads and run-down houses. I drove 5 hours for this crap? I approached a terminal assistant: "This is my first time in Colon and I know absolutely nothing about this place. PLEASE help me." She gives me a map and directs me to a cheap hotel, and when I arrived, the little old owner looks me over and for some reason thinks I am a threat to her shitty establishment. Me! A nice Jewish boy from Beverly Hills. After a harmless talk, she handed over a key and I got settled... To cut this section short, my evening in Colon was uneventful, but crucial for the rest of my weekend adventure. I walked around the old town, sat in a church with a stray dog, and ate a delicious "primavera" salad and tuna sandwich. I stumbled upon a tourist center with information about a national park, El Palmar, 45 minutes away with camping, a plethera of palm trees and lots of fun activities availible. THIS IS IT! TOMORROW - El PALMAR! That night, I slept 12 whole hours, caught up on lost sleep, and walked to the bus stop with a danish in each hand. Colon - boring - short lived. Gotta move.

I took the 10:30 bus to Ubajay - a very sketchy town up the road - and found a remise (taxi) to El Palmar. The driver, Christian, was blasting reggaton as we sped through Ubajay to the local supermarket and bought a mountain of bread, salami, cheese, mayonessa, and insect repelant. Looks like I'll be eating sanwiches all weekend. We drove to El Palmar and Christian gave me a vocabulary lesson. I asked the woman at the gate if she wants a chupitin, which could either mean lollipop or something far worse. I payed the cheap entrance fee and we flew down the dirt road, weaving through massive palm trees. I suddenly get the feeling Ive been dropped in either Jurassic Park or Vietnam, or both. When Christian let me go, a rush of excitement swept through my jumpity soul. What next?

I rented a small carpa and sleeping bag and began going to work. The problem was - I'd never done this before! All my friends had set up the tent in past camping excursions. An Entre Rios television crew came to help me, but we still couldn't solve this survivalist puzzle. Finally, Miguel, an El Palmar employee came to save the day while the television crew filmed and interview me. Can you believe it? Now I am a F-grade star of the Ubajay tourist channel! After we (or Miguel) got the tent up and running, Miguel and I made small talk. Out of nowhere he tells me that San Pedro Cactus is the best drug in Argentina. WHOAH! That was random. We split a liter of Quilmes and talked and talked and talked. This guy is extreme.

I also met a retired couple that lives is Vicente Lopez - my home town! The man used to work on the corner of my street, a one-minute walk! How strange it was to have we met 6 hours away from home? Super nice people. They offered me good wine and as I always do - accepted it.

The rest of the day brought swimming in the river, meditating on a sand bar and finding peace. I almost hitched a ride on a canoe...So close! At night, after a juicy salami sandwich, I went to the camp hang out spot and got to know the park staff. They were re-copado, super cool! I joined them for a free dinner including ravioli and plenty of free beer. One of the workers told me that Chochi Veragnani, Ubajay's top goal-scorer, cooked our dinner in the other kitchen....CHOCHI VERAGNANI? I have no clue who this possible legend is, so I scanned all their faces, left them with a Larry David look and finally sprinted to the nearby hut and asked who the hell is Chochi Veragnani? Thats' when I giant rose and gave me a violent look. This guy was huuuuge! Immediately, I became a Ubajay soccer fanatic and Chochi supporter. I tried some of his meat sauce and it tasted superb. Chochi tells me this, "Chochi is only good at three things: cooking, futbol, and fucking." I take his word for it and sprint back to the group. Jose, the park owner and American hater and I get into a political debate, but settle it by declaring Manu Ginobli, Carlitos Teves, and Chochi the best sports stars in the world. He then takes me in his car to go searching for carpinchos, or gigantic gophers than roam the area at night. In the car, Jose keeps swurving back and forth, back and forth, and I think to myself this guy is wasted. Not only this, but night hunters are in the area shooting wild jungle pigs around the park. And! lightning lights the sky around us... What could possibly go wrong? We found a pack of carpinchos and I nearly stepped on one as we screamed in unison. Not only this, but I found a toad and pet the fat little bugger! Very cool.

After more hilarious conversation with the workers and a night cap of some "Doble V" Argentinian whiskey, I was ready to crash. You have no idea how funny these guys were. Chochi once threatened me with a chainsaw for talking to his hot girlfriend. !!!!! He was by no means consciously going to cause harm, but I know somewhere deep in his psyche, he contemplated it.

The next morning I went horsebackriding with Paolo, the horse master of the park. My caballo Muleto eventually eased up and we became buds. I felt like a gaucho cruising under the tall trees, a cool breeze massaging my sunburnt face, and the smell of mother nature's perfume leaking into my nostrils. I finally galloped on a horse - what a rush!!! We stopped at a lookout point that was absolutely astonishing, but I forgot my camera! O well, its all in my mind...

Later, I heard an electric guitar screaming in the distance. I followed the noise and met Manu, the restaurant chef. We jammed out together, sang "Love Me Two Times" and shared some fine Argentinian flora. As the sun began to set, I thought, "I have to get to that lookout point!" I took of running in a dead sprint, sweating like a wild jungle pig through the hellish humidity...I finally arrived at the spot and watched the sun drop from a thick wall of black cloud. A giant golden egg waiving goodnight to the world.

We had an asado - I got very inebriated, and everyone had a dandy ol' time. Meat, wine, music, love - that's Argentina. It rained hard that night. My tent took a beating. Lots of my possessions soaked in sweet rain.

The next morning, I crawled out of my broken tent, shook off my hangover and decided to swim to Uruguay. Everyone gave me that absurd look and told me it's possible, but unlikely - 2 km each way. I am not the best swimmer, but something told me I could do it...I WILL DO IT! I grabbed a Baywatch-orange-torpedo and took off in slow motion to the water. Julio, the lifeguard, watched from a distance as I plunged into the green clean river. About 200 m into my journey, I looked up and saw the horizon drift further and further away. The current picked up and pressed down against my flailing attempts of glory. I was actually swimming in place like a water treadmill. When I return to land, Julio asked me, "Che! Seriously, have you ever swam before?" I replied, "dude...yes, but never anything as stupid as that." My effort was judo-chopped by mother nature, but then again, I tried, right?

When Christian picked me up Monday afternoon, I didnt want to leave. Its so hard to say goodbye. Seriously, will I ever see these people again? That's life: a string of moments. Nothing will ever be the same as it was, but that is the beauty of the present moment. New life. New adventures. New situations. Constantly moving forward. I met some of the most beautiful people since arriving in Argentina. The further away from the capital you travel, the stranger and nicer the people become. I also acknowledged that wherever you go, there will always be good people to push you forward.

When I arrived in BsAs, I experienced culture shock - probably because I dove from pure tranquility into a trash bin that is downtown Buenos Aires. I took the train back to my home stay, ate a healthy dinner and slept a healthy sleep. On the bus to school the next day, I thought to myself that there are more connections in nature, but there is no doubt that connections are constantly being formed within infinite movements and expressions of an enormous metropolis. Just as this thought passed through my mind, I recognized the man standing on the street corner - he sat next to me on the train the night before! Of all 14 million people around... As the bus drives on, I take a moment to breath in the beauty of everything and destiny riding above my head.