Border crossing to Argentina

Torres del Paine park, with the Torres towers in the middle. View from a distance as we head north to El Calafate. (credit: L. Hower, 2017).

I made sure to look for the towers of Torres del Paine on our way out of Puerto Natales by bus en route to El Calafate.  Having been on this same road less than 24 hours prior heading out of the park for showers, pizza and beer with the crew, I had a pang of nostalgia already for this town and these mountains, which I barely knew so briefly.  Javi mentioned the one spot where you could see them if you knew to look, and he was right.  Subtle in the distance, the towers of “Las Torres” were still distinctive in the outlined range way back in the distance.

Lago Argentino in view en route to El Calafate (credit: L. Hower, 2017).

The landscape is broad and open, only interrupted by lines of Andes on either side of us.  It’s a privilege to say this, but I became accustomed to the constant beauty of rolling hills, sterling blue lakes and majestic outlines of mountain ranges.  I also found a rhythm with the in-country travel by bus every few days, and I had my methods for managing the madness: coordinating the big bag to stay with the hotel while I ventured out for 1+ days; deciding the must-have toiletries from those that could stay behind; determining the clothing that could suffice for a comfortable hike AND dinner afterwards in a restaurant in town.  I loved being in towns where outdoor physical activity was a shared norm, and people thought nothing of showing up for dinner in fleeces, hiking leggings, boots or the equivalent.  Flavors of Telluride or other ski towns where I’ve spent time.

My bus rides were places in the itinerary where I mentally rested and did my writing. 

Bus passengers in line at the Argentinian board crossing waiting for passport stamps (credit: L. Hower, 2017).

I would exchange suggestions and questions with fellow travelers at times, but for the most part, these were windows of rest.  The ride rom Puerto Natales and El Calafate was about five hours, inclusive of a border crossing.  Calafate is seen as a hub for visiting glaciers and more outdoor activities, most notably to see the Perito Moreno glacier.  This bus ride was my return to Argentina after 16 years away; my one and only other time in this country was chaperoning a student trip out of Buenos Aires in 2001.  I was one year out of college and celebrating my 23rd birthday during that trip.  I was a different Lindsay then, and Argentina was a different country pre-Kirchner era.  It felt good to be back even though the border crossing itself was a bit inefficient.  Two stops are involved, the first is to officially exit Chile and the second is to officially enter Argentina.  In both cases, all passengers disembark the bus, stand in line, do the migration passport stamp thing, and then wait for everyone to get through before we embark again and get on our way.  All in, it adds an hour of time to the trip.

Views from the road to El Calafate (credit: L. Hower, 2017). 

Emily and I had a conversation about what it means to cultivate affiliation with a country.  Being born with citizenship is one thing, but cultivating home is another.  She shared her sense of home and ownership for Argentina.  Having lived here for a little over a year, Emily was forging her own path in building her Spanish fluency as well as her travel fluency.  One of the most competent people I know and definitely one of the most proficient travelers I’ve ever shared a bus ride with, Emily was flourishing as a professional, a human, a writer and an adventurer.  Argentina was providing the kind of launch pad she needed, which was awesome.  It was fun to be playing on her regional playground for these days and I’ll miss her company when we part ways in a few days, her to Bariloche and me to BA.