Feeling pretty psyched.
Ushuaia is the world's southernmost city, and at a distance of 1000km, the closest to Antarctica. In other words, the end of the world as we know it. We timed our trip to be here for the solstice, and here we are. We aren't quite far enough away from the equator to experience a midnight sun, but it's now after 10 p.m. and the sky is still light.
And I feel fine.
Last night we arrived in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, where daylight lasts for a disconcertingly long time this time of year. Last night Ken reported spots of brightness in the sky past 1 a.m., and I'm pretty sure sunrise was around 4 this morning.
It's something of a challenge to maintain Monk Mode here in Southern Argentina. Apparently the cost (in pesos) of a hostel dorm room in Argentina is indirectly proportionate to its latitude. And although we haven't slept in the same bed in over two weeks, we have splurged on a few tourist attractions, including a visit to the Perito Moreno Glacier in the Los Glaciares National Park near El Calafate.
Some of you may be shocked to learn that even though I hail from Canada I've never seen a glacier. I know! I had no idea what to expect. I anticipated only that: a) it might be cold, being next to a glacier and all, so I brought an extra sweater; and b) since we'd be gone for around six hours I might get hungry, so I also brought a ham sandwich.
What I did not anticipate was that the glacier would be so cool (pun intended) that I wouldn't even have enough room on my camera for all the pictures I'd want to take. The Perito Moreno Glacier is vast: it's 30km long, and rises 60m above the surface of Lake Argentina. Falling chunks sound like thunder as they break off and when they hit the water. (Apparently this happens with some regularity, as we saw several in the few hours we were there.)
Glaciers. Who knew?
More glacier pics on Flickr. Coming soon: Rainbows, penguins, and overuse of R.E.M. lyrics.
Since we crossed the border into Argentina we've been travelling south along Route 40, with stops in Salta, Mendoza, Bariloche, El Chaltén, and now El Calafate. (Click map, at right, to enlarge.) Along the way we've walked through beautiful parks filled with lakes and wildflowers, and been awed by views of snow-capped mountains. Last night in El Chaltén, after a day of hiking, we dined on delicious Patagonian lamb and marvelled at the daylight that lingered well past 10 p.m.
From here we'll continue south through Rio Gallegos to Ushuaia, Argentina's southernmost city, to celebrate the Winter Solstice. For Christmas and New Year's we'll be in Buenos Aires where we're housesitting (and catsitting!) for three glorious weeks, during which I expect highlights to include unpacking for more than three hours, and cooking.
That is, unless someone wants to buy us a trip to Antarctica for Christmas. We're flexible.
More pics on Flickr.
Pictures from our last two weeks in Bolivia are on Flickr. We toured a working mine in Potosí (claustrophobic), spent four days driving around salt flats, geysers, and lagoons near Uyuni (surreal), and rode horses through the canyons and valleys around Tupiza (pretty, and painful).
Tomorrow we head to Salta, Argentina, and while I'm not exactly excited about the 24-ish hours we'll spend on buses to get there, I am excited about the delicious steak and wine that await us across the border, and we're both looking forward to reviving the mate habit we developed in Buenos Aires!
We're back in La Paz, for the third time! This is two times more than we expected (OK, wanted) to be in La Paz, but here we are. We will fetch my passport and enjoy cheap street eats one last time before we bid farewell to Bolivia and make our way to Argentina on Wednesday.
We've been killing time on various tours throughout the country, from which I will post pictures shortly. Also coming soon: A post with highlights from our many bus rides so far. To whet your appetite, here is an anecdote from our 16 hour bus ride last night from Tupiza (a nice little town in the south of Bolivia) to La Paz. As we were just on the outskirts of Tupiza, the bus stopped, apparently requiring some maintenance. We pulled into some sort of maintenance yard and Ken, who had the window seat, gave me the play-by-play as he watched a guy go over to a pile of scrap metal to look for something. Possibly something to fix the bus.
"What do you see now?"
"Apparently the piece of metal was the wrong shape so he went back to the pile to find another one. But he was distracted when his shoe fell off and when he bent over to put it back on I got a nice view of plumbers' butt." Pause. "They're not just hairy on their heads."
I can't thank you guys enough for your supportive comments (on UFF and Facebook) and your beyond-generous offers to send me replacement items. Seriously, you guys helped put this loss into perspective. The world is full of bags and books and sweaters. I think Caroline put it best when she wrote, "It helps me to think of all of the unexpected things that have walked INTO my life, balancing out all the things that have walked/(been walked!) OUT of it." Word. And while I'm still angry as hell at the fucker who took my backpack, I'm also supremely grateful that neither of us were injured in the process.
Just last weekend I was chatting with Bri, and told her, "I could spend a month in [Bolivia]... it's so interesting." Be careful what you wish for, right? We're back in La Paz and after a couple of visits to the Canadian Embassy we learned that it'll take at least two weeks (and $240! aboo) to get a replacement passport. So... it looks like we'll be in Bolivia a bit longer than we expected. Fortunately we like it here, and it's the most inexpensive country we'll visit on this trip, so we'll just add a city or two to our itinerary.
Did I mention thanks? You guys rock. The most. Unlucky moments notwithstanding, I feel really lucky to have you in my life.
P.S. While I love gifts almost as much as I love getting stuff in the mail (i.e., A LOT), I don't think we'll be anywhere long enough to receive anything, and anyway, I wouldn't count the postal services around these parts for much more than post cards. Thanks for the offers though, so much.
Tonight, after my backpack was stolen and I was lamenting the things I lost, including my passport with its plethora of stamps (including Machu Picchu!) from South America, Ken hugged me and said, "We have a lifetime to collect more stamps."
We had just boarded a bus to take us from Potosi to Uyuni, about a 6-hour journey. The bus was very small (our knees touched the seat in front of us), and as a result I made the unusual (for me) decision to stash my daypack in the rack above our heads. A few minutes (5? 10?) later, I stood up to help someone else squeeze in a bag, and realized my pack was missing. Gone. Here's the thing about buses in Bolivia. When they're not moving they are full of people, travelling or not. People selling empanadas. People singing songs for money. And, apparently, people who board the bus a few minutes before it leaves and then get off said bus with a bag to which they don't rightfully have ownership.
Just after I noticed it was missing, another passenger confirmed that someone had indeed sat beside him for a few minutes, then stood up, grabbed the pack (my pack! my super-comfortable Osprey Talon-22 daypack! in citron!), and left. I grabbed my remaining possession (a water bottle, PET, 2L) and headed onto the chaotic sidewalk, hoping to catch a glimpse of my bag, but of course it was long gone.
The rest of the evening was spent checking into a hostel in Potosi, filing a police report, making weepy phone calls (to credit card companies, and my mom), and downing a couple of litres of beer. Tomorrow we'll head back to La Paz to find the Canadian Embassy so that I can get a replacement passport (...I know).
Regularly scheduled programming will return after I've finished mourning the loss of my favourite Lululemon zippie and a book that I was REALLY into.
Internet access, especially reliable wi-fi, is bound to vary from place to place, especially when by "place" you mean "the cheapest possible accommodation with something resembling a bed." Fortunately the Ireland-France soccer match this afternoon means that we're comfortably ensconced in a Dutch bar in Sucre, Bolivia, with smokin' Internet access. Here are some recent highlights.
1. The Bob Marley Effect
When we were in Brazil a few months ago, people frequently greeted Ken as Bob Marley, shook his hand, and/or offered him something to smoke. Not one of our five days in Cuzco passed without Ken being offered some illegal substance or other ("Smoke? Sniff?"). Several times I've noticed someone taking a stealthy picture of Ken, and twice we've been stopped by someone who'd like his or her photo taken with our favourite Bob Marley doppelgänger.
2. Hostels
As we anticipated, $2.50 per night for our room in Copacabana was too good to be true. After a brief, half-hearted negotiation we paid about $4.25 per night (still a bargain, obviously, for a private room). On the Isla del Sol we paid just under $6 per night for a private room, and here in Sucre we're splurging: $13 per night, and we even have our own bathroom. Generally the hostels are safe, clean, and warm, and even have hot water (although my showering standards are certainly on the decline).
3. Monk Mode
Monk Mode (i.e., a budget) certainly makes things more challenging, but it has its advantages. I'm pretty sure we eat less ("1 Boliviano [15¢] for cheese? Forget it!") and bargaining is more fun when you're willing to walk away from a scarf that with an asking price of $3. (Inevitably you'll get it for $2.) Yesterday we boarded the "Dino Bus" to see some fossilized dinosaur footprints just outside Sucre, and soon learned that the 15 Boliviano (each!) ride didn't include entrance to the Dino Park and its 8 dinosaur replicas (30 Bolivianos! Each!). We took the bus ride anyway and amused ourselves with the dino replicas outside the park while we waited for the rest of the group. How frugal!
P.S. More pics from Peru and Bolivia are on Flickr.
While most of our food shopping so far has been done at outdoor markets, we did stop in at one supermarket in La Paz. That's where we picked up the tumbo. It's small and oval, a lovely pale yellow, and very subtly fuzzy.
I cut a tumbo open length-wise to discover a very pretty orange, passionfruit-like cluster of seeds and pulp. (Turns out another name for tumbo is banana passionfruit - how appropriate!) I tasted the fruit as I would passionfruit: by eating the pulp around the seeds. At first I wasn't a fan. The taste is mild but a bit chalky, and certainly not as juicy as I'd expected. A few more seeds in, though, and the tumbo was starting to win me over. I've since seen tumbos stacked up at juice stands and I'm curious to try them blended and strained and maybe mixed with a little sugar (or pineapple juice).
UFF Fruit Rating: 
First, a map! The pins indicate where we've been so far: Lima and Cuzco (both in Peru), and Copacabana and La Paz, Bolivia. Click to enlarge.
Yay Geography!
We've been in La Paz for three days and as usual, our favourite part of the city is the food, especially the street food. On our first morning we passed a woman selling fruit salad: chunks of papaya and banana piled into small plastic cups. I bought one for a single Boliviano, or a whopping 15¢. (It turns out banana is especially delicious when it's marinated in papaya juice.) Fifteen cents will also buy an ice cream cone (with a scoop each of grape and banana or vanilla and coconut, and drizzled with chocolate sauce), a good-sized hunk of banana bread, a slice of the sweetest watermelon ever, or a cinnamon popsicle. Or you could use that same 15¢ to buy a couple of oh-so-fresh donuts, made by a woman sitting on the sidewalk with a pot of hot oil, a bag of dough, and a shaker of powdered sugar.
We've also enjoyed fresly-squeezed grapefruit juice (45¢), salteñas and tucumanas (delicious empanada-like pastries originally from the Salta and Tucuman regions of Argentina, respectively) for about 30¢ apiece, and this afternoon we ate a tasty pork sandwich replete with carrots, tomatoes, and spicy pepper sauce. It ran us 3 Bolivianos--the equivalent of 45¢.
Our favourite breakfast is at the Lanza Market, where a dozen or so women each have small stands, each with a table about the size of a diner booth tucked in behind it. Any of these women will make you a mean fried-egg sandwich with avocado, garnished with slices of ripe tomato and fresh white cheese on a crusty French roll. Two of these with a couple of cups of café con leche can be had for just over $2.
Tonight we splurged on dinner at our Irish-run hostel, and ordered up some very non-Bolivian bangers and mash. The huge (and very delicious) plate set us back $4, and it was worth every Boliviano.
Yesterday around lunchtime we arrived in Copacabana, Bolivia (not to be confused with Copacabana, the beach in Rio, or Copacabana, the club in NY). It's a small town at a high altitude (3841m) in a peninsula on Lake Titicaca (go ahead and giggle; I still do every time I say the name). Lake Titicaca (hee) is gorgeous, and tomorrow we're going to hike 17km to a place called Yampupata, from where we'll take a boat to the Isla del Sol, and maybe stay a night there. My browser capabilities are currently limited, but you can find a map here if you're so inclined.
Our accomodations here are by far our cheapest yet--we reserved 2 nights, online, for $5 (for both of us!). We expect there'll be some haggling over the price when we check out tomorrow, which is kind of a tricky situation: Even if it cost twice as much it would still be a bargain for us, and at the same time we don't want to be taken advantage of as gringos.
The food here is delicious and cheap. For breakfast today we had coffee, bread, and freshly-fried donuts (bañuelos) with syrup for about $1.50. Lunch was grilled lake trout with french fries and rice and ran us under $3. (We later splurged on a brownie with ice cream that cost as much as the trout!) Most of the women here don't come up much past our waists. They all wear layered dresses and bowler hats, and the majority have a baby slung on their backs.
More updates when we get to La Paz; as one might expect, $1.25 per night doesn't include wi-fi.
There's a very special (read: frightening) new Fruit of the Day available to get you in the mood. In case you're wondering, we're dressing up as backpackers this year, and I think our costumes are very convincing. Happy Tricks or Treats!
We set alarms for 3, 3:15, and 3:30, and by 4 a.m. we had begun our flashlight-lit walk from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu. It was a steep climb of about 1700 very uneven stairs (Ken counted), and at 5:15 or so, as the sky lightened, we were among the first 50 people to arrive at the entrance gate. We had our tickets stamped and received our passes (only 400 are distributed daily) to climb Waynapicchu, a mountain with literally breathtaking views of the ancient Incan city. At about 6:30 we began a two-hour tour of Machu Picchu with Enrique, then Ken and I set off to climb Waynapicchu. For me it was one of the most difficult parts of our trip. The "steps" were steep and uneven, and to get to the top took almost an hour. It was worth the effort. I stopped at a plateau near the top and Ken continued another 10 minutes or so to the peak. While I sat waiting for him in the sunshine, overlooking Machu Picchu, I felt incredibly peaceful.
We arrived back in Cuzco late Wednesday night and spent most of yesterday scratching our bitten legs and resting our tired feet. Today we treated ourselves to hour-long massages at the bargain-basement price of $7 each, then had lunch at the central market, where a huge bowl of soup and a generous portion of rice, salad, lentil stew, and fried fish costs all of $1. Including a glass of juice.
On Wednesday I swore it would be weeks or even months before I did another trek, but today I'm reconsidering. After all, in life, as in Peru, anything can happen, but nothing is for sure.
...but nothing is for sure.
These were the words of wisdom imparted to us by our guide, Enrique, as we embarked on our 5-day trek to Salkantay and Machu Picchu. It was amazing, and it was really, really hard.
Day 1
A bus picked us up at our hostel at 4:45 a.m. After a few more stops in Cuzco (alt. 3350m) to pick up about 14 other adventurous souls, we drove on very curvy roads to the town of Mollempata (alt. 2800m) where we disembarked, slathered ourselves in sunscreen and bug spray, and started walking. We hiked, mostly uphill, for about 5 1/2 hours. After lunch (soup, rice, and delicious lomo saltado (beef stew) the road was blessedly "boring" (read: wider and flatter). We arrived at our first campsite at the base of Salkantay (alt. 4100m) around 5 p.m., just in time to beat the torrential downpours. Luckily there was a shelter in which we could set up our tents, so we stayed dry. We drank coca tea, ate dinner and were huddled in our sleeping bags by 8 p.m.
Day 2
At 5 a.m. our guides Enrique and Saturnino "knocked" on our tents and presented us with hot cups of coca tea. We packed up our gear and after a delicious breakfast (pancakes!) we were back on the trail. Day 2 would involve about an hour of switchbacks, or zig zags, up a steep mountain, a brief plateau, then another 40 minutes or so of steep uphill climbing to reach our highest altitude (4650m). By the end of the final climb Ken and I were resting after every 50 steps. It was beautiful and brutal, and when we got to the top we celebrated with cookies and apples and much picture-taking. Walking down the other side of the pass we passed completely different terrain: Huge rocks surrounded by mist that reminded us of "Lord of the Rings." After lunch we walked about 2 hours more and arrived at our camp, nestled into the side of a lush hill and also home to various chickens, dogs, and pigs. Bedtime was again early, and we slept soundly after our long walk.
Day 3
After another 5 a.m. coca-tea wakeup call and a hot breakfast of oatmeal and omelettes, we started out through the forest. We crossed a small river and then hiked a steep, rainy, and very muddy uphill for about 50 minutes. As we started to make our way down the other side, through the Andean cloud forest, we passed a small home with a yard full of wild turkeys, giggling away in the fog. These were some of the funniest beasts I've ever heard, and each time they gobbled (in unison!) I laughed and laughed. It was one of my favourite parts of the trek.
We continued our descent until we reached a dirt road, at which point we were also low enough that the rain had stopped and the sun was strong. The dirt road stretched on for many hot kilometres and included a small river crossing at which we had to strip off our boots and socks. The icy water felt wonderful! Unfortunately there were swarms of small blackflies waiting for us on the other side, and we all ended up with countless small, red, and indescribably itchy bites on our calves and shins. We finally reached Playa (alt. 2400m) and were finished our hike for the day: After lunch, a bus took us on the most treacherous road EVER to Santa Teresa (alt. 1800m). After we set up camp (and continued to slather on insect repellent in a feeble effort to fend off the relentless biting flies), we continued our scary bus ride (seriously, I was sure we were going to be part of a "there were two Canadians and an American on the bus" article) to soak our tired bodies in the loveliest of hot springs. On our return to camp we dined, and several members of our group celebrated into the wee hours of the morning. Ken represented on our behalf; I was in bed by midnight. (Apparently Ken's representation was strong, as the next day, Saturnino frequently sought him out to provide reggaeton beats as we hiked!)
Day 4
We slept in until 8, despite Enriques's warning the previous night: "If it's sunny, I know you're going to be up at 6:30, because inside your tent it will be hell." Breakfast included a birthday cake for our amazing cook, Isidro, who turned "at least 50" and who could climb a mountain faster than any of us 20- and 30-something gringos. After breakfast, we walked at a leisurely pace through a valley in the blazing hot sun, stopping for lunch at the Machu Picchu hydroelectric plant before continuing our walk along the railroad tracks to our penultimate destination, Aguas Calientes, a small town through which almost all Machu Picchu visitors pass. Ironically, our hostel in Aguas Calientes didn't have hot water. It did, however, have beds, and toilets. With seats. Glorious, glorious seats. Dinner was a very mellow affair at which we received our tickets to Machu Picchu and were instructed to begin our climb of approx. 400m (vertically, that is) at 4 a.m. the next day.
After a rather uncomfortable 23-hour bus ride from Lima to Cuzco, and two days in Cuzco (alt. 3300m) spent sleeping, drinking coca tea, and catching our collective breath, we're embarking this morning on the Salkantay Trek to Machu Picchu. I confessed to Beto, the guide with whom we booked the trek, that I was a little afraid of the 5-day journey. He told me not to worry; that I could ask the spirits in the mountains for help, and that they would be there.
OK, Mountain Spirits, here we come.
On our last night in Rio with Frenchy and Dutchy (aka Audrey and Eric), we asked them for a list of the best (and worst) parts of their six months in South America. They recommended cities and sites to see (and some to avoid), and told us their favourite places to stay. In Lima, they had been the first guests of the brand-new Kokopelli Hostel. Audrey advised us to ask Paolo, one of the proprietors, to point us to the ceviche restaurant to which he had taken them. Paolo offered us one better: To take us there for lunch on Monday.
(First, though, on Friday night, we went to a club. I know: I'm too old for that shit. We went with a few people staying at the hostel, all decked out in our best backpacker chic. At one point someone commented, "I'd never wear this to a club at home," to which I replied, "I'd never go to a club at home." It's true.)
Anyway, Monday rolled around and we were both very excited for lunch. Paolo rounded up a group of about 15 people from the hostel to join the festivities, and we piled into a few taxis to go to the neighbourhood of Barranco. Once there, he led us into a little market, past stalls selling raw chickens (with the feet still attached!) and even a little barber shop. The "restaurant" was a bunch of plastic tables under tarps, and we assembled enough chairs to fit our posse. We unanimously agreed that Paolo should order for all of us, and soon food started appearing on the tables.
We started out with chicha morada, a sweet and very tasty dark-purple juice that's made from purple corn. Small metal bowls of salted, roasted corn kernels also appeared on the table. We snacked on those until our first course arrived: A bowl of almost-clear broth with a mussel in each bowl and a generous sprinkling of cilantro leaves on top. It was refreshing and flavourful (especially with the addition of squeeze of lime and a rather potent hotsauce), and the mussel was particularly good.
Next came a dish called tiradito apaltado. Tiradito is like ceviche (fish marinated in lemon or lime juice with onions), but sometimes with oil in the marinade, and without onions. This particular tiradito was served with corn, a hunk of sweet potato, and half an avocado on top. The fish was incredibly fresh-tasting and the avocado was one of the best I've ever had, fresh and perfectly ripe. While we were devouring the tiradito, plates of crispy fried seafood (pescado frito) arrived, garnished with yuca fries and a bowl of mayonnaise for dipping. These were a mix of calamari, shrimp, and other fishy bits that had been battered and fried.
We continued the feast with ceviche - once again a mix of seafood, this time marinated in citrus and garnished with sweet red onions and more sweet potato. I loved the tiradito (especially the avocado) but the ceviche was probably my favourite dish. The fish was sweet and a little bit salty and oh-so-tender, and the thin slices of onion and sprinkling of corn added a perfect crunch.
Just when we thought we were winding down, two rice dishes appeared. One was very similar to seafood-fried rice, only not there was definitely no need to fight over the shrimp. The other was more like seafood risotto, with a lighter flavour than the fried rice but still packed full of fishy goodness. I limited myself to small portions of those (both were delicious!) so I could finish the remaining ceviche for dessert, and Ken busied himself with the leftover fried bits from the pescado frito.
Finally, Paolo announced the grand total: 14 soles (about $5) each, including tip. And we thought beef was cheap in Argentina!
More pics on in our Peru set on Flickr.
Cross-posted on Ultra Fine Food (there are a bunch of new fruits over there, too!).
4. The coast reminds us of San Francisco (so does the weather (foggy), but it's a lot warmer than our last week in Canada!).
3. The parks are beautiful and oh-so-well maintained. Last night we were walking in Parque Kennedy and came across a salsa party! Today we walked a few kilometres of park that run along the coast in Miraflores, and passed dozens of walkers, runners, families, and lovebirds taking advantage of the foggy-yet-mild afternoon.
2. Fruit is plentiful and cheap: In addition to our new fruits-of-the-day (chirimoya and granadilla, tonight we bought 5 bananas at the grocery store for about 20¢. We also bought a guacamole kit containing 2 ripe avocados, small containers of hot salsa, corn kernels and cheese, a lime, and a small pack of Doritos for all of $2.60.
1. The people are happy, chill, and so helpful! On Friday night when we tried to hail a cab a stranger stopped to tell us the taxis wouldn't stop on the corner on which we were standing, and pointed us to the correct location. And yesterday when I stopped to ask a municipal security guard about the salsa party (which apparently takes place every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights) he encouraged us to dance!
This half of our South American Adventure is starting out with great success! We've slept more in the past three days than we did in the month before, and we both feel like we packed the right combination of items, more or less. We're planning to stay in Lima until Tuesday and then embark on our first looooong bus ride (22 hours, over the Andes) to Cuzco. OK, I'm not sure I'm fully prepared for *that* adventure.
We've been in Waterloo for over a week, and I'm sure you're all wondering how the much-hyped reunion went with our beloved feline, Memphis. While there wasn't exactly the slow-motion running across a field of daisies into each others' arms/paws (although I do appreciate the imagery, Tyler!), there has been much cuddling. There has also been a startling revelation: It turns out I don't have the "bad sinuses" I've been claiming to have for the past 12-ish years. That is to say, I am severely allergic to this furry orange beast. The first morning back I woke up with my eyes looking like I'd cried all night, and within half an hour of being out of the house I was back to normal. In fact, when Memphis curls up on my lap (or chest if I'm lying down), I can feel my throat close up. Good times. So far I've dealt with this situation by taking a Benadryl before bed every night. Denial rules! When we come back for good maybe I'll also try to stop rubbing my face in her belly, but I can't say for sure (guys, she's SO soft!).
Anyhoo, tomorrow we fly off to Lima, via Miami, for the second half of our South American Adventures. In honour of this special event, I have prepared the first of many very basic* maps to illustrate our whereabouts.
YYZ is the code for the Toronto Airport, and now you know where the Rush song name comes from! We have a five-hour layover in Miami, and we arrive in Lima at 4:30 a.m. on Friday with our knapsacks on our backs**. Let the games begin!
We've pared down our belongings to one backpack of about 45lbs each, containing mostly quick-dry pants and underwear (and in my case, enough sample-sized products to have my very own spa day at least once a month). The blogging will continue and I'll keep putting pics up on Flickr.
*I'm not bringing my computer. On a six-month trip. I'm already experiencing withdrawal.
**Val-deri,Val-dera, Val-deri, Val-dera-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha***
***Holla Onkel Hans!
That three days of sleep I keep promising myself still hasn't come to fruition. We've been bouncing around Waterloo since we arrived a week ago: Walking dogs and kissing babies and dancing the Chicken Dance [<--awesome Lawrence Welk video alert!] at Oktoberfest.
We're heading off to our third Thanksgiving celebration this afternoon, and the list of things for which I'm thankful this year just keeps growing. Happy (Canadian) Thanksgiving!
It's our last night in New York until May 2010. Give or take.
That seems like it's really far away, but then, so did September when we left for Argentina back in March. Somehow, though, it doesn't feel any easier to leave this time than it was back then, even though now we have practice.
We've had the most amazing two weeks, shuttling between Brooklyn and Manhattan, not to mention Cape Cod and Stamford and New Haven. I postponed any weight-loss efforts and thoroughly enjoyed all of our NY-favourites (bagels: check! pizza: check! burritos, sushi, bacon and eggs: check, check, check!). I practised yoga and ran in Prospect Park and took pictures of babies and dogs and perfect peaches. At times I felt like I hadn't been away more than a week or two, and other times I walked around all agog, like I was experiencing the crazy-awesome-weirdness of New York for the first time.
Tomorrow afternoon we're flying to Toronto, at which time we will immediately drive to Waterloo and smother Memphis with affection. (Friends have suggested that she might ignore me at first, as it goes with those of the feline persuasion, but I think that will be difficult as I don't plan to put her down for at least an hour.) Then I'm going to sleep for three days.
My mom always used to ask me why I was so tired when I went home to visit, and I always thought it was just because I stayed up late to pack. This time though, it's because I stayed up late to hang out with New York. We had some catching up to do.
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