Baptism by Pula

They say Africa gets under your skin. I'm still figuring out if that's bad like a splinter or good like a perfume. I think it's a bit of both. Africa is raw. It’s huge and heavy and real. It reminds you that you're human. It strips away the comforts and leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed. But it makes you feel stronger because of this.

I've slept in a tent, back against the red earth, for 18 of the past 21 nights. I've been a rider on an overland tour that's taken me from Johannesburg, South Africa to Arusha, Tanzania. There are 14 others, mainly British and I'm the solo American. I hear “Yay Obama” a lot. In Buenos Aires I would go to bed at 5am but now I greet the sun from the other side. Tent packed and fed by 6am - I have twice eaten cereal under the stars. The drives are long and the showers cold, we are dirty and smelly and bruised. But we are smiling. I've been kissed with freckles by the sun.

A hippo visited our campsite the first night. He casually chomped on grass for two hours while we watched in fear and awe. This is not a zoo, there are no fences or guards, you are part of the food chain. One day we had to stop in the middle of the highway to let an elephant cross the road. An elephant. This land is wild.

In Botswana the currency is called pula - rain and the coins are called thembe - raindrops. Rain is a precious as money. I've had my fair share of it these days, setting up tents while soaked to the skin – wet and muddy but laughing.

Africa is intense and each day reveals something new. The wild animals remind you that you're fragile. The smiles remind you of what you have. And the night stars remind you that you're not alone.

Slice of Life: Mirror

Botswana, Africa

Hungry Hungry Hippos

Our first night of camping in Africa ... had a visitor.

TIA: This Is Africa

I once had a farm in Africa. Okay, no. But I've always wanted to say that.

No matter what it is – the rain, a late bus, a canceled tour, an upset stomach, increased prices – the excuse is the same: This Is Africa. It’s like a communal and continental acceptance.

I’ve only had a small slice of Africa’s pie but this is what I’ve noticed so far.

South Africa: is sprinkled with purple trees called jacarandas. So big and bright the flowers litter the street like confetti. They belong in a Dr. Suess book.

Botswana: the currency is called pula - rain and the coins are called thembe -raindrops. Because rain is as precious as money. Raindrops in your pockets.

Zambia: the people here seem to smile from their soul, it shines right through their eyes and burns a happy hole into your heart.

Malawi: is humbling, many people live in small homes made of wood and mud. Kids walk around barefoot. Their eyes are deep and dark and poetic.

Tanzania: has it’s own sky. It’s where the gods try out new colors, new sunsets and new constellations. The heavens feel a bit closer here.

Africa is a beast of a continent but it’s a beautiful one.

Slice of Life: Pride

Kruger Park, South Africa

CHAPTER 2:

AFRICA.

Adios Amor (Goodbye Argentina!)

A wink of Cupid's eye and my three months in Argentina has come to it's final day. It's been an amazing 12 weeks: sampled the Malbec nectar of the gods, sipped the bitter leaves of yerba mate, carried across the tango floor, exchanged Spanish small talk with the locals, partied until the sunrise kissed my face, captured 1,000 photos and witnessed the postcard perfect images of Iguazu and Patagonia.

I'll sneak out of this city at the wee hours like a lover slipping out of an early bed. I leave quietly and with some sadness. This place and the people in it were an absolute gift on my journey, making a sometimes hectic place feel like home. A warm embrace into the world of travel and it gave me trust in the unknown. I already miss you. My bags are packed and I now head east into the African sun.
But you've got a piece of mi corazon Buenos Aires. And you always will.

Slice of Life: Mis Amigos

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Buenos Aires 101

Land. Jet lag. See the Casa Rosada. Trip on sidewalk. Eat empanadas. Eat steak. Drink Malbec. Dance. Find apartment with other foreigners. Make local Argentine friends. Drink more Malbec. Take Spanish classes. Sound stupid. Dance more. Listen to music in the Park. Get shoulder checked in San Telmo. Try Yerba Matte. Try Fernet y Cola. Hate it. Try it again. Still hate it. Love how "Y" sounds like "Sh". Take the Subte. Get lost. Date a Porteno. See the inside of a 'telo. Go dancing until you see the sunrise. Have locals actually understand (some of) your Spanish. Have an asado. Talk with an older Porteno. Learn what "quilombo" means and use it often. Smile. Fall in love with a whole culture. Support the madres de plazo de mayo. Make fun of the mullets. Start thinking the mullets look kinda hot. Contemplate growing a mullet. Take the train to Tigre. Try to find ground pepper. Rent a bicycle. Get lost. Learn what "Rollingos" are. Heart the cheek kiss. Learn the Argentine hand gestures. Watch a Bocca Junior game. Realize that the Boca Junior fans are the craziest mofos you've ever seen. Take a Tango class. Look stupid. Take a walk through Park Palermo on a Sunday. Wish you had a big latin family. Be alone. Be with friends. Be with a lover. Be alone again. Take disco naps. Take pictures. See Bomba de Tiempo. Step in dog poop. Almost get run over by a car. Feel truly alive. Fall in deeper love with the city. Leave a piece of your heart here.

Slice of Life: Gemelos

San Telmo, Buenos Aires

Quote: When You Travel ...

I feel as though I've really been living this ...

"When you travel, you experience, in a very practical way, the art of rebirth. You confront completely new situations, the day passes more slowly, and on most journeys you do not understand the language the people speak. So you are like a child just out of the womb. You begin to attach much more importance to the things around you because your survival depends upon them. You begin to be more accessible to others because they may be able to help you in difficult situations. And you accept any small favours from the gods with great delight, as if it were an episode you would remember for the rest of your life. At the same time, since all things are new, you see only the beauty in them, and you feel happy to be alive."

- PAULO COELHO, THE PILGRIMAGE

Slice of Life: Patagonia Perfecta

Bariloche, Argentina (Dear Lake Tahoe: How do you like them apples?)

Stranger in a Strangeland

The honeymoon period has worn off a bit but I’m still in love with mi amor, Buenos Aires. But dang is he moody, one day he’s all fresh helado, flowing Malbec and slick dance moves. And the next he’s diesel fumes, catcalls and shoulder checks. My Spanish is coming along day by day, my favorite Lunfardo slang word so far: quilombo, which basically means cluster f--k. Buenos Aires has been good to me though and I’m a true fan. Some initial imprints:

Mullets & Ratails: The variety is downright impressive. Dreadlock ones, long braided ones, shorty perm-like ones, hot soccer player ones. I'm starting to want one. Yes.

PDA: The cheek kiss, men hugging without the stigma of 'looking gay', teens going to town against the nearest building wall. It’s on. All the time.

Street Music: Anywhere, anytime. Tango, lambada, cumbia, reggaeton, jazz, rock and jam bands on every other corner.

Hand Gestures: The Italian past time is in full effect here. My favorite is the criss crossing of the finger on the lips to signify keeping a secret. Or the brushing of the right hand under the chin for "no se". Two hands for "no tengo idea".

Cutsies: Um, hi, um. No I wasn’t standing in line behind the counter with things to purchase. No, go ahead. Hi.

"Que quilombo"!

Slice of Life: Sombrero Roho

San Telmo, Buenos Aires

Slice of Life: Gaucho

El Campo, Argentina

Light and Dark

Buenos Aires is starting to feel a bit like home. The broken sidewalks are easier to navigate. The melancholy eyes seem to brighten as it gets closer to spring. There is a certain hope in the air, the empanadas taste better and the black jackets make way for an occasional purple sweater. 

I’ve rested my head on this city’s soil for one month now. It’s not a place that's easy to fully embrace but I’m still into you, BA. You’ve still got me hooked.  

The Spanish is slowly sinking into my skin and with each passing day I sound less and less like a drunk two-year-old. I try everyday. Look foolish everyday. Yet feel elated everyday when I can understand a conversation. The universe opens up and goes "Si". The nights continue to offer a treasure chest of musical gems: milongas, swing, zouk lombada, jazz, international DJs and drum shows. Something for everyone to shake their assets to. 

I went to a tango bar last night, La Catedral, that was part Pablo Neruda sultry dream and part David Lynch eerie nightmare. A beautiful hybrid of light and dark. Just like the Argentine people. Just like the onda aca. Just like the city itself. 

Slice of Life: Mate

Palermo, Buenos Aires 

Slice of Life: Jaw Dropper

Iguazu Falls, Argentina

Slice of Life: Street Kiss

Montserrat, Buenos Aires

Baptism by Fire

Buenos Aires never sleeps. I’m two weeks into my trip and I’ve finally landed on my feet. I’ve been living days and nights that can only be compared to college era times. Dinner at 11PM, bar arrival at 1AM, dance floor packed at 5AM, breakfast at 1PM.

BA is complex. It’s dirty and cheap and artsy and mysterious and huge. It is birthed from a drunken one-night stand between Paris and Mexico City. A hybrid of European and Latin cultures. The youth sports mullets and rat-tails, so much so that I am starting to question what decade it is.

Buenos Aires is unapologetic; you will get run over by a car if you don’t yield to it. It can be trying and yet you begin to feel yourself falling for it. BA isn’t the hot quarterback, it’s the sulky art student – you want to know it’s secrets, it’s hidden pathways.

The first few days, this city said to me “I could care less that you’re here – big deal, another post Eat Pray Love American expat exploiting my peso with cheap Malbec consumption”. I felt a bit hurt, a bit humbled. But now I’m starting to accept it for what it is, with all its broken sidewalks, black jackets and melancholy eyes. I’m starting to crush on you, BA, even though you can be difficult.

This ciudad has so much to explore, I’ve been here 14 days and have yet to walk by a tango show – there's so much more to be revealed. I'm happy that I took this plunge into the unknown and that I started here. Each day is new and each day is full. of. life.