little sarah Big World

Hey, Dad. Hi. How’s it going? I’m writing directly to you because I know you’re probably the number 1 reader of my blog, though I often have to push that thought away in order to write honestly about, you know, sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll.

But I’m glad that you read, even when you over-analyze what I’ve written. I know you read so faithfully because you care, because you’re interested in my life and concerned for my well-being. So I just wanted to take a moment to say “hey,” and to let you know that I’m doing fine. You don’t have to worry, because I’m turning out just fine. Hello from littlesarahBigWorld. (These guys wanted to say “hi,” as well):

-OR I COULD SAY-

Hello from your mountain-climing, long distance-running, doowop-singing, yoga-loving, broadway musical-obsessed daughter. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree I guess, but that’s part of what makes me me, and the me that I am right now is loving life. No need to worry.

-OR-

Hello from the top of Machu F***ick Picchu!!! I made it! Your daughter climbs mountains! She travels alone in South America! She gets sick and tired and has rough days and crummy experiences, but she keeps going, head held high, chin up, and onto the next adventure.

And she loves you. So you did alright. Things turned out well.

Oh, and one more thing:

Love from your Daughter,

Sarah

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May 17, 2012

Snapshot: La Serena, Chile

Laundry hanging to dry in Wilson and Jhamiel’s backyard:

Sunbathing, reading, writing in the ol’ journal:

Wilson carried the flip-n-f**k couch outside for me to do this. It takes the meaning of couch-surfing to a whole new level.

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May 16, 2012

Going Out in Valpo

-OR-

And to think, this all started in a church…

…where we went to hear classical guitar. And eat Oreos. Then we drink wine from mini bottles on top of an overpass. And then we went to a bar/club.

…where we drank more, danced to live rockabilly music, hit on the coat-check girl, got hit on by inexpert boys of all nationalities, and danced ’til the wee hours of the morn.

Then I walked home alone, got lost, and asked some sailors for direction. I was maybe still drunky when Brett woke me up this morning to catch our bus.

Don’t tell Mom.

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May 14, 2012

Family Dinner

-OR-

The Absolute Best of What CouchSurfing is and Can Be

Valparaíso (or “Valpo,” as the locals call it), is a crazy place. Chaotic, bohemian, grungy. And our CS stay here is like a microcosm of the city itself, with 3 hosts/inhabitants and SEVEN surfers–a german couple, an Italian, a Brasilian, a French girl, and then me and Brett.

When we first got here, I was feeling quite overwhelmed, unsure of what we should do (turns out: relax) or where we would sleep (turns out: the couch). People who’d been surfing for a while were making dinner, and seemed so at home. I wasn’t sure which would be more rude–assuming that we could eat some of their meal, or going out to eat, even though they were cooking.

Giuseppe’s dad (in Santiago) said that the world is supposed to end May 20th. Even though I don’t believe that, I had a low moment, thinking that I could be potentially spending my last few days on earth traveling somewhat aimlessly, spending money on trifles like food and buses, surrounded by strangers.

Then I remembered that, if I can’t be content and peaceful in the here and now, then life has no meaning for me. So I immersed myself in the present, opened up my heart to our hosts and fellow couch surfers, and had an amazing time. With fajitas.

This is what we call communal living, and it is equal parts chaos and beauty.

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May 13, 2012

Goodbyes and Hellos

Leaving Santiago:

Arriving Valparaíso:

Every time we change towns I have a weird sort of traveler’s growing pains, always prefering where we were to where we are now. Then I get over it. Example: I totally didn’t love Valparaíso, and now I totally do. So I’ll just have to keep that in mind for the next change.

This is how we learn, Friends.

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May 12, 2012

Santiago de Noche

-OR-

Piscola and TariTA

Eight hours on bus, after I had double-checked that it would only be 5 1/2, and Brett was still miraculously waiting for me at the station. I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in all my life. He waited for 2 1/2 hours. Big, big hugs and bigger smiles.

We made it to Giuseppe (our host)’s house, dropped my stuff, went out for a walk. I finally bought two of the four things I wished I’d packed–a cardigan and a scarf. (The other two would be my pocket alarm and my camera battery charger. Ah, well). Then we ate dinner, plus a bottle of wine, at an Italian place. So far, Chile is cheaper than Argentina, and I’m okay with that.

I was feeling pretty groggy after the wine and wanted to just stay home and turn in early, but Giuseppe Sr. made me a pisco sour (the national drink, more or less), and I rallied by (inexpertly) taking pulls off of Brett’s cigarette. Then we went with Giuseppe to a planning party/drinking fest at his friend’s house with a bunch of members of Rotaract (like JV Rotary Club).

We drank piscola (the JV national drink, and much better than Spain’s calimocho), danced, talked, and played drinking games until the host’s mom came home and bade us goodbye. Then it was: giggling on a public bus, late night french fries, and a good, long sleep in a bed while Brett snored.

It’s good to be with friends in a welcoming country.

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May 11, 2012

Crossing the Border

-OR-

8 Hours in a Camioneta

So I thought I could save time and money by taking a van from Mendoza to Santiago, instead of one of the big, plush tourbuses.

But it still took a full 8 hours, and I probably only saved $10. Ah, well. The scenery was lovely, and then van was surprisingly comfortable.

Even if customs took, like, 3 hours. No joke. It was worth it.

Welcome to Chile.

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May 10, 2012

Early Morning, Hostel

Hello, Mendoza!

After a long and very fancy bus ride…

…I arrived at my hostel in Mendoza!

…with grotesquely swollen feet and ankles:

Ah, well. You can’t have it all. Fingers crossed that this is from my non-vegan meat-fest yesterday (I was so hungry, and so tired of snacking. Argentina is the worst place not to eat meat or dairy), or maybe from too much running? I would hate to have to go to any sort of doctor here.

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