Corral, Chile

It was the reinactment of a battle between Spain and Chile. The remains of fortresses that were used to hold off the encroachment of Spain. The residue of awaiting eyes at cannons, hard rock walls with only ocean clashing at the other side. It was formal and thrown together: teenagers who dressed like soldiers who had once fought at the same age over 200 years before. People stood with cameras, leaning over balconies.

In SchoppDog

Antique tennis rackets, movie posters, fishing nets, a suitcase with stickers are all hung up on the wall. There are only families here. Waiters move between like screen door flies that cannot find direction to exit out the room. I swear I´m in America.

Lago Jacob

-Descending into Lago Jacob



-The pasta that we had for breakfast was warm and delicious



Ryan, Kacey and I were akoken by Chelsea who was screaming
¨Shit! Shit! Shit!¨because her and Nathan´s tent had been leaking all night long.

Nathan was nearly hipothermic. The tarp that we had put over our backpacks had blown off. Everything we owned was drenched.

We had to retreat to refuge in a a cabin that was full of 70-some grade school children. One of the women who worked there lit the fireplace and let us hang our clothes to dry.

Kacey immediatly immersed herself within the midst of screaming children. We took pictures as proof of her ¨students¨ in order to show her parents that she really did visit Argentina for the educaional opportunity.

Nathen was huddled, arms around his knees, shaking erraticly beside the fire with no warm clothes to wear.

Chelsea was wearing mall shoes.

Ryan had his mud-drenched sock hanging on a hot dog stick. He was holding it in a way that resembled a flag that had some sort of soft-felt pecular meaning, an invisable country that we claimed without intention of proving that it was real.

-Kacey and her ¨students¨


-Nathan nearly hypothermic and warming up with Mate


-One of Chelsea´s mall shoes that she went backpacking in

Weekend at Villa Hesson

It was a dream. It was filled with us six. We were up 24 hours straight. We were on the beach in the middle of the night, blanket huddled, blowing wind. We were body warmth, changed our possitioning until all of the blankets were built into a barrier that was breaking the wind. We passed around a bottle of diluted whiskey, the waves swept.

Florida Avenue, Buenos Aires

Florida Ave. A group of people dressed as Native Americans
playing flutes over prerecorded drum and base electronic
music in order to sell an album that they apparently made.

A pedestrian street for hardcore shoppers who are always holding shopping bags that are full of clothing and knick-knacks, the crowds move at an annoyingly slow pace since nearly everybody on the avenue is looking to buy something. This is the only part of Buenos Aires that I get flustered, need to escape the head to head contest of mid-day traffic. Half of the people within the mass are trying to sell something. Mostly it is people who stake out spaces within the crowd and hand out businness-card sized fliers: free tanning salon sessions, fast-food discounts, business clothing, ready made vacations, hookers. The people with flyers for hookers are the worst. Usually he is an adolescent who has barely broken puberty, and he lays it on hard, he will not leave you alone until you walk two full blocks ahead with him at your side. He is attempting to be your friend, tells you why you need to go to a whorehouse, right now! It is only after you have ignored him, acted as if i did not speak english OR spanish, crossed a street, then he will leave you alone, will move onto the next person with more desperation.

Shoeless Joes

I am eating a cheeseburger at the only american bar in Buenos Aires. It took two hours to get here. There are 8 tvs, each is showing a different football game (American Football!) and i cannot get enough of these chatty businessmen who just finished closing a deal with Nike and Telephonica. I could not be happier for them, but frankly I dont give a shit. We are Detroit Lions fans. I am here to watch football. They are here to watch football. There is no place except for this bar. We are blabbermouths when the Lions score, a psychosis of nonsensical words. We give eachother five, but not five, this guy in the corner (perfect hair, skinny and tall) insists on giving ten, plus ten shots and also a kazoo. Erupting, we are members of a circus.

This happened at Shoeless Joes
Uruguay 1175, Buenos Aires