There's even culture shock in nature

Let's try this again. Yesterday I started typing and fell asleep after the first paragraph.

In fact, maybe we should start with "In case you missed it" because....

Let's try this again. Had to pause my blogging to navigate Rio Turbio and the Chilean border. The trip is amazing; my blogging less so.

In case you missed it, here's a run down of the weekend's activity:

-Ellie and I left home at the same time on Friday and arrived within 2 hours of each other in Buenos Aires

-After changing airports, we flew 3 hours to El Calafate, landing about 30 hours after we started

-Picked up a rental car, got groceries, ate burgers, and went to bed

-15 km glacier hike! I got a crampon my feet. (Lol)

-Carne asada with new hiking buddies

-Thrown into the fire on my first ever manual driving

-Great progress on bird bingo.

-Sweeping vistas, a roadside lunch, the border

I won't say too much about our travel down here because it was relatively seamless. The main thing is that Friday and Saturday blurred into one surreally long day, full of connections and transfers. There really wasn't even much waiting; we were always on the go. The only minor hiccup was departing Buenos Aires (the air is so good), where they had all the departure gates closed and no one was going through security. We waited for around 45 minutes with no information. Ellie slightly panicked while I updated my bird list with a Crested Caracara we saw on the bus transfer (I had permission to say that). When they finally did open security, everyone was waved through in a flood. I haven't seen such lax airport security since before 9/11. The ultimate irony? We actually left on time! Both of my American flights left on time left at least 40 minutes late....

By the way, for those who don't know, Ellie is a former housemate from the UK. Can you believe we all met over 11 years ago? Shocking. A keen backpacker and traveler, she is a great travel buddy, and I'm so excited we'll be tackling Patagonia together.

Upon landing in El Calafate, a couple things quickly became clear. First, unlike Buenos Aires (the air is so good), many people do not speak English in Patagonia. We picked up our rental car from a very friendly lady who explained lots of useful information about the rental... In Spanish. Maybe she told us headlights are required on the highway. Maybe she told us what our policy details are. Maybe she told us there was an extra fee for going to Chile. We smiled along politely and she knew we didn't understand but it was all ok. (Disclaimer, Ellie scrutinized the policy in English ahead of time, so at least that was in hand.) Notwithstanding this counter encounter, I am SO glad I've been studying Duolingo Spanish since August- it's come in extremely helpful already and I feel confident in the basics. Whew.

Second, the blue dollar is 'a thing.' ...And we don't know how to use it yet. In Argentina, there's a 'black market' of sorts for US currency. How does it work? Basically, the official exchange rate is 340 ARG pesos to 1 USD. If you pay in dollars, however, they'll give you a discount to around 190:1. If it sounds extremely confusing, yes, it definitely is. So not only do you have to be able to divide by 190, but you have to decide in what currency you're paying. Argh. Or, I should say ARG. The two-week car rental came out to something like 4,000,000 pesos. Good luck with the mental math.

Third. As we rolled into El Calafate... What a weird little town! There's a very narrow and touristy little downtown full of BBQ places, ice cream, and hipster outdoors stuff. But you go a block off and you're met with gravel 'sidewalks', somewhat decrepit-looking buildings, and the usual stray dogs. Definitely reminiscent of my trip to Ecuador, but not tropical. (As a side note, my first non-Canada foreign travel was to Ecuador, almost exactly 15 years ago. How things have changed in my life since then!) And, just like Sto. Domingo, Ecuador, the street names aren't posted. I ask you, how are you meant to find your way around with no street names? 

Ellie and I checked in to the hostel. It was shortly after 9pm and the sun was just setting. The next day promised to be a big one, so we scampered out for a grocery run (but "no purchasing Malbec after 8") and ended up with Wolly Burger as well. I had a burger that was somewhere between a Big Mac and a Whopper. Multiple patties, special sauce, pickles, sesame seed bun. You get the idea. The place was packed with locals so it seemed a good choice. But let's face it: it is still fast food. 

Within 12 hours we were on the road again, having stocked up on hostel breakfast. By the way, have you ever had yogurt served in an unlabeled milk bottle? Clearly we haven't, as we ruined two coffees and a cereal. There were also pound cake slices, toast and eggs, and mysterious jams, and savory sauces for... Toast? 

Anyway, Ellie drove us out to the Perito Moreno Glaciar, a ride taking us past our first wildlife: a giant European Hare that was almost obliterated by our grill; a skunk; a Crested Caracara, and domesticated horses/cows.

At the end of the road we began our adventure, a 15 km (10mi) guided hike along and on a 35km slab of ice. The hike started where the glacier meets its demise, tumbling dramatically into Lago Argentino below. The shear face of the ice was likely hundreds of feet tall, so it was amazing to think the leading edge is one of the thinnest parts of the glacier. 

As is to be expected, the recent recession of this face is severe and tragic, losing several hundred yards in just two years. Indeed, we witnessed three mighty chunks falling into the water with dramatic boom and splash, but it's sad that my posterity may never get to see such a phenomenon.

A short post, but this is all I can do at the moment. Time in next time to hear more about the ice, my sticky situation, and the rhea housewives of Patagonia. 

Hasta manaña!