Water, wheels and a wedding

We were both really excited to be back in familiar territory when we crossed from Belize into Mexico. I think in some ways we wondered if the reason we liked Mexico so much a few years ago was because it was at the very beginning of our trip and we would have been excited about traveling anywhere. But this doubt was put to rest when we reconnected with friendly welcoming locals, beautifully diverse landscapes, flavorful food and mouth-watering pastry shops.

We spent our first few days in Tulum, a town on the western coast of the Yucatan that was built up around a fortress of Mayan ruins of the same name. One of the highlights of our time there was renting bikes to get ourselves around. The wheels wobbled from side to side with every rotation and I wasn't sure if I was going to still have both pedals by the time we returned the single speed cruisers, but it was an awesome way to get around a conveniently flat town with wide shoulders and even some multi-use paths. One of our rides took us to Gran Cenote, an incredible fresh water aqua pool in a stalactite-filled cave that opened up to beams of sunlight streaming down. Sea life was not the focus of this snorkeling trip, but swimming through the geological formations was unlike anything we had ever experienced.

The next morning we woke up well before sunrise, put on our headlamps and biked along the deserted highway to the ocean side of the Tulum ruins. We walked along the beach until we found a comfortable outcropping of rocks where we could sit, enjoy some Mexican breakfast rolls and attempt to watch the sunrise. The sky certainly got lighter, but there were too many clouds for a clear sunrise. Because we got such an early start to the day, we avoided the hordes of tour groups that surfaced later in the day and were first in line to enter the famous ruins situated on rocky cliffs overlooking the aqua sea below. Although the craftsmanship and size of these ruins were not as impressive as Chichanitza or Tikal, the backdrop of crashing waves below certainly added to the majesty.

From our backpacker accommodations in Tulum, we left bright and early for Playa del Carmen where we would be living in style for the next three days at the all-inclusive resort that our good friends Erik and Katie had selected as the location for their wedding. It took a little while for us to get used to our beautiful air-conditioned room, people waiting on us, and eating and drinking whenever and wherever we wanted. But we managed. Although devoid of any local culture, it was a wonderful couple of days of reconnecting with old friends and meeting new ones. Erik and Katie have already heard this a number of times, but we were so excited to discover how cool all of their friends and family are. On any given morning after walking a few steps down the beach, we would find a group familiar face, pull up some lounge chairs, strike up a conversation and enjoy the day. Along with playing in the waves and getting drinks from the swim-up pool bar, we enjoyed learning to sail a four-person catamaran, a night of karaoke, a bonfire on the beach, and of course a beautiful wedding that so perfectly represented our two dear friends. It was a wonderful end to an amazing month of travel.

From one hammock to another

After a week of studying, we decided that lounging around in a hammock and swimming in a crystal clear fresh water lake sounded perfect. Casa del Mundo, a beautiful terraced hotel that is built into a steep rocky cliff overlooking Lago Atitlan was a place we thoroughly enjoyed on our trip three years ago, and we decided we had to go back. It was almost just as we had remembered except for the minor detail that the lake had recently risen 10 feet and many of the terraces are now underwater. We've heard a few theories for this rise, but the most likely one has to do with the previous two years producing unusually high rainfall which also collects more sediment and since there are no overland rivers flowing out, the sediment has been clogging the underground exits. At least the sunken terraces made for some interesting snorkeling.

At Casa del Mundo we enjoyed waking up early every morning to do yoga and go for a relaxing swim when the water was the most calm before breakfast. Every night a delicious set four-course dinner was served at large community tables where it was easy to get to know other guests and chat until the candles at the table had burned all the way down.

From Lago Atitlan, we spent one night in Antigua during semana santa before setting out on our longest travel day of the trip. Unfortunately we didn't realize that Good Friday was the most difficult day of the year to catch public transportation when we decided that would be our big travel day to get all the way to a small island in Belize. The next 20 hours were filled with chicken buses, several taxis, a shuttle bus, a night bus with reclining seats, an air-conditioned van that was owned by a generous man who offered to take us where we were heading for the same price as the bus would have been, and a launcha (motor boat) that was only running because the owner was driving his own family over to the island for the Easter holiday. We finally arrived on Tobacco Caye and checked into our rustic, but awesome white-washed private cabin with a porch overlooking the water. Because the tiny 200 yard long island sits on top of the barrier reef, we were able to snorkel right from the dock each day to see amazing coral formations, tropical fish of every color and size and some majestic eagle rays.

Although we enjoyed our time on the island, we quickly realized that Belize didn't resonate with us the same way most other Central American countries had. We noticed the culture felt more aggressive overall and less welcoming than other indigenous Central American cultures and we found that English with a heavy island accent (their official language) was actually harder to understand than the Spanish we had become accustom to. So after a handful of days in Belize it was time to continue our trip north.

Back to school

The second part of our time in Xela was filled with a week of classes at the very friendly Utatlán Spanish School and a homestay with a wonderful local Guatemalan family. Arturo, Dora and their children welcomed us into their home with open arms. While sharing three meals a day, we became familiar with their progressive ways of thinking, their sincere interest in getting to know more about us (along with their eagerness to correct any misspoken Spanish), and their caring nature toward one another. Dora let us use the kitchen to prepare a meal for a pot luck at our school one night, and Jon was thrilled to discover the family had a guitar in the house that they graciously let him take to class so his teacher could help him learn a few Spanish songs.

During the week we had five hours of one-on-one Spanish classes and a few hours of homework (that we typically did with a beer or coffee in hand) each day, but we still found time to fit in some extracurricular activities. One afternoon we visited Fuentes Georginas which are amazingly relaxing hot springs set in a high-altitude jungle that is continually encompassed in waves of fog. We also caught a professional fútball game where we quickly learned that the fans cheer and ignite homemade fireworks regardless of the actual activity in the game. It was quite a scene - and did I mention how big the beers were? One of our last adventures in Xela was a bike trip accompanied by the owner of our school to El Baul, a very steep hill that overlooks the whole city. It was a perfect view to take in before bidding farewell to Xela.

Gaining a new perspective

From Antigua, we headed to Quetzeltenango by way of some proper chicken buses. If you think it's a mouthful to say the name of Guatemala's second largest city, rest assured, most people call it Xela (pronounced Shay-la) for short. Our first few nights in town, we had the opportunity to meet up with our buddies Dave and Julie from Colorado who were a month into a year-long trip similar to what we did a few years ago. The conversations we enjoyed with them over a few beers reminded us just how much we learned in the year we were away from home.

When we think back on that trip, it's easy for us to only remember what things were like by the end of the year - the personal growth we had both made and our ability to communicate in Spanish. We realized in talking to Dave and Julie, that if we can stretch our memories and remember back to the beginning of that year, there were some real challenges too. In hindsight, these difficult and confronting events were absolutely necessary. They were the catalyst that made us realize we even wanted to create change.

One of the most obvious shifts was in our ability to roll with life's surprises and disappointments. During our month of travel this April, there were a few things we tried to plan out ahead of time in an attempt to control the outcome. It's funny how we have the illusion of being in control - but in reality, we can only do so much and then life just kind of happens around that. We have learned in the last few years that every situation provides us with the choice to fight what is, attempt to change it, or accept it. Instead of holding on more tightly to the things that are out of our control, it seems that loosening our grip helps create a more fluid experience.

I think these ideas continued to sink in as we headed into the wilderness and up to the summit of Tajumulco - the highest point in Central America. Accompanied by our Spanish-speaking guide, we hiked up steep paths though pine forests to a base camp of about 13,000 feet where we spent the night. The next morning we woke up at 4am, left the warmth of our sleeping bags and hiked to Tajumulco's 13,845 foot summit to watch a most spectacular sunrise. It was incredible to know that on a particular day in history, we were the first people at highest point in Central America. The sunrise was amazing to watch as little by little more light crept into view. The clouds that seemed so far below continued to change shape and color. It was a magical hour to watch the transformation of night to day.

First stop: Antigua

As soon as we landed in Guatemala we welcomed the sensation of exercising our traveling legs and spanish skills once again. Our first stop was Antigua - a gorgeous colonial city that seamlessly combines beautifully colored houses and flower-filled balconies with cathedral ruins that allude to what the city must have been like hundreds of years ago. Our first order of business was lunch at one of our favorite restaurants, Rainbow Cafe, immediately followed by a visit to Yogen Fruiz, which offers a perfect combination of frozen yogurt and fruit. I think we had a cone in our hands at least once a day trying to get our fill for the next few years.

Our first few relatively calm days were a sharp contrast to the time we spent in Antigua during semana santa (holy week), just a week and a half later. In many Central American cities, the entire week before Easter is filled with festivals, parades, floats, and beautifully created alfombras (decorative carpets made of flower petals and colored wood chips). Antigua is at the heart of it all which made for some great parades, people watching and exploring, but a small dose of the crowded streets was about all we could take before moving on.

From Antigua, we were able to hike nearby Pacaya, an active volcano that still has smoke rising from its summit and some sauna-like caves a little further down. Unfortunately it's not currently as active as it was three years ago, so we'll have to save seeing hot lava for another time.

Settling in

Megan:
Well, five months ago we were on our way to Chile getting ready to head back to the States, and that's kind of the last most of you have heard from us. Let me apologize for the lack of follow-up. I suppose sleeping late and reveling in just hanging out at home hasn't made for very inspirational subject matter. Although it has typically been our exotic physical experiences that have inspired many of our blog writings, it's often the internal journeys that end up being more rewarding to share. While these past five months have not been as action-packed as the journey that preceded it, the experience has been rich with new challenges, and new learning.

Because of the economic state we walked into when we came home, we did not end up seamlessly returning to our previous jobs a month after our return as we had originally anticipated. Instead we were blessed with several months to settle back in, to focus on retaining many of the valuable lessons we learned on the trip, and to blend some of our new found perspective with our old ways of thinking. One of the most important skills we learned during our year abroad was how to roll with whatever situation presented itself, no matter how different it was from what we were expecting. These past five months have been a wonderful opportunity to continue practicing that.

Instead of frantically searching for jobs in one of the most grim economies either of us has ever seen, we have found ourselves reveling in the unexpected free time, and basking in the warmth of family, close friends, and home. Jon has immensely enjoyed getting back on his bike including a 200 mile, 4-day trip through western Colorado with his dad. We also had a wonderful visit with my mom at the beginning of July when she was in Boulder and helped to celebrate my 30th birthday.

Even with our heightened appreciation of free time, we have both stumbled into work opportunities that we feel pretty excited about. Jon has recently accepted a design position with an international firm, and I have decided to take a different route than the traditional graphic design positions I've had in the past - I have been designing and producing handmade greeting cards. Although this endeavor is still in it's early stages, it has been quite rewarding to watch the process evolve, knowing that whatever it becomes will be determined almost completely by my own actions and decisions. If you are interested in seeing what I've been working on, feel free to check out my website (mhellerdesigns.com).

To celebrate one of our last weeks of uninterrupted free time before Jon started work last week, we recently took a trip to western Colorado for a little backpacking, and a taste of the wine culture on the western slope. For three days and two nights we enjoyed exploring the tranquil flowered valleys of the West Elk Wilderness area. We were shocked that over our entire time in the backcountry we did not see a single other person - only a few elk, some massive cows, lots of birds and a bunch of mosquitos that we could have done without. It felt wonderful to be outside again, carrying everything we needed on our backs. As we were hiking over mountain passes and through aspen groves I found myself thinking about what moments I would like to capture to be included in the blog - something I hadn't thought about since we had been home. It felt great to be inspired again in that way.

Once we were finished exploring the backcountry we indulged in a lovely bed & breakfast in the town of Paonia where we enjoyed a much needed shower and a delicious dinner that was not prepared over a camping stove. The next morning we were treated to an amazing community brunch around large tables in the perfectly shaded garden at the B&B (which doubles as an organic farm). Jon and I really enjoyed getting to know the other young couples at our table as we shared a sensational meal made completely of ingredients from the B&B and a handful of other local farms. Later that afternoon we rode our bikes between several different wineries and enjoyed some very low-key tastings. None of the wineries in this region are more than 15 years old, which probably accounted for the very comfortable small-scale charm that we encountered with each visit. Aside from the fact that everyone we met spoke English, the whole week bore a striking resemblance to many of our experiences in Central and South America.

We feel so grateful to have experienced all that we have over the past 18 months. Thank you all for the support you have given - it has meant the world to us.

Coming home

Megan:
Since leaving the fantastic city of Buenos Aires, Jon and I have been experiencing some amazing places and letting the reality of our new homeward-bound situation sink in. It really feels like we have been making the most of our last month.

Our first stop after leaving the capital of Argentina was Córdoba where we found some charming pedestrian streets and continued enjoying the tango culture despite the city's noise and grit. From there we headed north to the small flower-lined town of La Cumbre where we checked into a quaint little bed and breakfast and quickly became friends with three other travelers, Robyn, Ryan, and Pieter. This small town's claim to fame is that it was home to the 1994 World Paragliding Cup. We decided that we wanted to get in on the action, and extended our stay here by several days to wait out the strong winds in hopes of giving this exhilarating sport a try. After passing a few lazy afternoons getting to know our new friends, we finally got a call the third morning informing us that the winds were perfect and it was time.

What an incredible feeling to run as fast as you can toward the edge of a cliff until the wind fills your glider and you are swept upward. Jon and I both really enjoyed the experience, and with our instructors doing all the work we could sit back, relax, enjoy the dropping stomach sensation and watch a rainbow that seemed to have appeared just for us. After about 30 minutes, we landed next to a beautiful river and spent the rest of the day swimming, basking in the sun and drinking a few too many beers with our buddies.

Our next and last destination in Argentina was the famous wine region around Mendoza. In this delightful city, we enjoyed the numerous plazas, wide streets filled to the brim with shady outdoor cafe tables, fabulous gourmet food and of course, vino. We rented bikes one afternoon, to cruise around and visit a number of wineries, a liquor and chocolate manufacturer, a specialty organic food farm, and an olive orchard. This provided us with a fun, but surface level sampling of many of the region's offerings. Something Jon and I had never done before our time in Menzoda was pay for a flight of wine at a high-end tasting room. This was a really fun and informative experience - we were each given 6 generous tastings (for a total of 12 wines between the two of us), and we had our own personal guide throughout the evening who facilitated an incredibly detailed explanation and discussion of each wine.

Despite all of these amazing experiences that still fill the majority of our time abroad, as the end of a year long journey creeps closer, our heads seem to be filled more and more with thoughts of home. I think when we were planning this trip, we naively thought that we could leave the country for a year and then slip right back into the lives that we had grown to love once we were finished traveling. We knew that our mind-sets would have shifted slightly, but I think we forgot to take into consideration that all of the people and things at home would also have an entire year to change and evolve.

In about a week, we will reenter a reality that has gone through a number of obvious changes. We'll be coming home to a depressed economy, fragile job market and a new president, not to mention the multitude of more subtle shifts that have occurred since we've been away. Instead of picking back up where we left off, Jon and I are facing the very real possibility of having to drastically change our jobs and as a result, our living situation, our routine and our lifestyle. We do not know how long it will take to sort out the next phase of our careers, when we will begin searching for our next home, or how we are going to ground ourselves in the meantime.

I never thought that coming home could feel more scary and unknown than traveling through a foreign country. Over the past year, exploring unknown lands, speaking a foreign language and switching beds every few nights have become our way of life - that's what has become familiar. I have come to know what to expect from this. In contrast, I no longer know what to expect from home. For whatever reason though, we have decided that although going home brings with it an infinite number of uncertainties and will probably bring up an equal number of insecurities and personal confrontations, it is time. I suppose it is a combination of the desire to settle down, to reconnect with the wonderful friends and family who are waiting with open arms, and on some level we feel ready to take on these new challenges.

The textures of Buenos Aires

Jonathan:
It wasn't long after we got used to the idea of being on our own again that it occurred to us, somewhere in all the excitement of family time we had forgotten to notice that the last leg of our trip had somehow crept up on us. It was silently waiting for us in the same place it had always been, but suddenly the end of February seemed a little too close to be comfortable.

My initial reaction was to panic and try to somehow quantify our experiences. I felt my head spin into a frenzy of doubt about whether we would have anything to show for this year once the next six weeks had passed. Had we really changed at all or would we just go back to our lives, slip back into our routines, and helplessly watch our year's experiences fade into a collection of paper-thin memories?

I spent one long grumpy evening in our apartment complaining to Megan about how I didn't feel any different, and I must have missed something somewhere. Well, obviously some things don't change as quickly as others. The next day I had to smile at myself. No matter how many times this comes up, it always seems to take some effort for me to step back and remind myself that nothing is wrong.

The truth is that it's hard to imagine that even a single moment of this trip has managed to slip by unnoticed or unappreciated. I can't count the number of times Megan and I have found ourselves staring at each other across a table somewhere with uncontrollable grins on our faces, just basking in the freedom that this year has been for us - A full year's worth of experiences bursting with an unfathomable quantity of unforgettable adventures, fulfilling relationships, and challenging moments of growth and clarity.

You can't do something like this and not come back changed.

In a lot of ways it feels subtle though. Sometimes it's hard to notice that the colors are slowly shifting when you've been staring at them the whole time. The growth we've experienced on this trip is not something we can quantify or list out (as much as I would love to). No, instead this year has just become a part of us - the same us we've always been, constantly growing, constantly changing, constantly adapting to new situations and new ideas. We'll come home just as we are, knowing that everything we see and everything we experience is slightly tinted by the lense of wisdom this year has provided.

We spent our last two weeks in Buenos Aires soaking in the rich textures of that amazing city - not trying to justify anything or make the most of any particular experience - just basking in it. When the end of the month rolled around and we packed up our things, checked out of our apartment, and hit the road again we both realized this was the first time on this trip that we were leaving a city without feeling quite ready to move on.

With thoughtful smiles, we boarded a bus to head out to the central Argentine capital of Córdoba. From here we will spend the next several weeks enjoying the journey west through wine country toward Santiago where, on the 26th of February, we will catch our flight home.

The warmth of family

Jonathan:
After wrapping up our visit to Patagonia and seeing Molly and Andy off, Megan and I had exactly 2.5 days to enjoy our privacy in Buenos Aires before my mom & dad arrived for a visit of their own. Knowing that my parents would be spending the better part of the month with us in Buenos Aires, and thinking it would be nice to have a space of our own, Megan and I had made arrangements to rent an apartment during our brief visit to the city back in November. Since the place was big enough for four, we ended up moving in the day before Molly and Andy left, and all of us enjoyed a nice quiet celebration of our final hours together in our new apartment.

It's hard to describe what it feels like to have a space of your own again after spending the better part of a year sleeping in hotel rooms and spending every minute in what is essentially someone else's space. Suddenly we had our own private niche in the middle of this howling city where we could quietly do whatever we wanted. We had a kitchen that was just sitting there waiting to be used; a fridge that we could fill to the brim with whatever we wanted (including what ended up being an alarming quantity of beer); a closet where we could unload our backpacks and leave anything we wanted out in the open... It was amazing!

We spent the weekend before my parents arrived basking in the warm glow of privacy that neither of us had expected would feel so good. We spent new year´s eve at home together, quietly sipping wine and watching the city's fireworks from our terrace.

The apartment itself turned out to be a hip and spacious brick loft located in a very nice neighborhood in central Buenos Aires called Palermo. By the time my parents joined us, we were still reveling in the luxury of our plush new surroundings. We spent our first several days together exploring the vast expanse of gorgeous parks that surrounded us in upper Palermo, and just enjoying some time together in our nice air-conditioned home. We didn't get out much at all, and it was hard to keep Megan and me out of the kitchen - every meal was an opportunity to break out one of our favorites from home, and share some good home-cooked food with the folks.

The following Monday we all made our way downtown to start yet another round of Spanish classes. My parents have always been interested in learning the language, and since there's nothing quite like learning it on location, we thought it would be a fun way to spend part of our time together. That whole first week, we all plugged away together - spending our mornings studying hard at school, and our afternoons and evenings huddled around the table doing homework together.

Feeling thoroughly fried after just five days of intense studies, we all decided it would be better to spend the rest of my parents time exploring Buenos Aires, the area around the city, and having a little fun. After spending a few free days checking out the city, and catching an authentic Tango show in the theater district, we headed out on an overnight bus north to the province of Misiones to take in the magnificent Iguazú Falls - one of the largest series of waterfalls in the world. We spent 2 full days exploring the vast network of walkways that wind in and out of the 300-some falls, providing humbling up-close experiences of the falls' sheer force, and some absolutely breathtaking panoramas.

Upon returning to the city, we headed out on a day trip across the Rio Plata to pay a brief visit to Uruguay, and the beautiful cobbled town of Colonia. We enjoyed a very pleasant day exploring its shady flowered streets, and playing on the sandy beaches of the riverbank. Our final few days together with my parents were spent exploring still more of the richly varied parts of Buenos Aires, and enjoying each other's laughter and company over card games at home.

After bidding my parents farewell, and seeing them off in a cab on their way to the airport, Megan and I solemnly walked back into what turned out to feel like a very quiet and cold apartment. The same place that just two weeks before had felt so exciting and filled with potential, now seemed sterile and empty. We've spent the better part of this last year surrounded by new faces, strange places, and the only thing familiar or constant we've had has been each other. In all of the excitement of spending the past 6 weeks with family, it hadn't really occurred to either of us just how wonderful and different it had been to be with people we love. It was such a blessing to spend that time surrounded by the warmth of our family in the midst of a journey so far from home.

That night we couldn't help but break down crying as we thought about how fortunate we feel to have our family, our wonderful friends, and what a tremendous joy it will be to come home.

Lakes District

Megan:
After our time in the south, we took our longest bus ride of the year (28 hours) to the Lakes District of Patagonia. We spent a few days in El Bolson, an incredibly charming little town known for its microbreweries, chocolate and ice cream - could you ask for anything more? From there, we set out on our final backpacking trip with Molly and Andy. These three days were filled with a variety of climates, some of the most poorly constructed trails we've ever seen (these people don't believe in switchbacks), unbelievably rickety bridges, glacier-fed crystal clear swimming holes, and some spectacular scenery. Jon and I decided to take a different approach on this portion of the trip and instead of bringing our tent, we stayed in small artfully crafted log-cabins along the way - each complete with hand-made furniture, playful kittens and a cozy wood burning fire. These welcoming refugios ended up being one of the highlights.

We finished our trek in the wilderness on December 24th, just in time to spend Christmas day back at our quaint, family run hostel in El Bolson. The four of us enjoyed cooking some delicious meals together in their well-outfitted kitchen, and even found time to enjoy a picnic in a nearby park where, in the heat of the southern hemisphere sun, it was difficult to remember what holiday it was.

From there, we enjoyed a few days in San Carlos de Bariloche - the capital of the Lakes District. It only took a few minutes of gazing out at the amazing blue lakes that surround this town to understand where this region's name came from. We spent some time in the town wandering through the beautiful Bavarian architecture-lined streets, and felt like we had been transported to a ski village in the Alps. We also put on our hiking shoes one last time for an incredible day-hike to the top of Cerro Catedral where we were able to see an awesome panorama of multiple rows of mountain ranges fading into the distance.

It was bitter-sweet returning to Buenos Aires because although Jon and I were very much looking forward to having time to explore the incredible cultural capital of Latin America, it meant that our time with Molly and Andy was coming to an end. Not only did our time with them make us forget just how far from home we were, but their passion for natural beauty was contagious. Jon and I pushed ourselves to do longer and more intense treks than we ever would have done on our own, and it allowed us to experience Patagonia on a whole different level. Thank you both so much for everything you shared with us this past month.

Fitz Roy

Jonathan:
After our glorious 6 days on the "W," we crossed the border back into Argentina and headed back through the all too familiar El Calafate on our way north to the top side of Glaciers National Park and the magnificent Cerro Fitz Roy - a stunning tower of jagged rock that juts up out of the plains at the head of the Patagonian cordillera.

We had heard that Fitz Roy itself was almost always shrouded in clouds and could be difficult to see. In fact we had heard stories from people who had spent weeks in the area and never caught a glimpse of the peak. But for some reason the night we arrived, as we crested the surrounding hills and began our decent into the picturesque Chaltén river valley, we were graced with a crystal clear panorama of a spectacular and dramatic range of peaks. Fitz Roy was almost perfectly framed by deep blue sky and a few fiery clouds that were still catching some light from the setting sun.

We spent our first couple of days in Chaltén gearing up for yet another back country trip, and visiting the rangers' station to familiarize ourselves with the park. Initially we had thought that after our aggressive and somewhat grueling time in Torres del Paine, we would take it easy and do a quick 2-3 day trip around Fitz Roy - just enough to make it to a few lookout points and get a good sense for the peaks. Well, somewhere in the planning process that idea got lost and we ended up planning another 5 day adventure that would take us deep into the gnarled valleys of this beautiful range.

Our all-to-recent trip into Torres was the first time Megan and I had used our packs in the back country. The majority of the trip we've carted them between bus stations and hotels and not much in between, so we were pleased to find out that our backpacks actually work as backpacks. Regardless, we were still nursing sore shoulders and hips from our last adventure when we strapped 'em on and headed into the wild yet again.

Our first day on the trail we were blessed with more gorgeously crisp views of Fitz Roy. After we set up our tents at our first campsite, Andy and I made a quick trip straight up the seemingly vertical valley wall to the official mirador for a better view the peak, its massive glaciers, and the crystal blue lagunas that sparkle on either side. Doing our best to not lose our footing in the thunderous gusts of wind, we got our first taste of the powerful presence of Fitz Roy... At some point earlier that day, Andy had mentioned that for him, mountains seem alive somehow - showing emotions, and changing moods from one day to the next. I knew exactly what he meant at the time; I grew up around mountains. But Fitz Roy... I've never seen anything like it.

Awe stricken in its shadow, we watched as the rock face stared down at us, drawing swarms of wispy clouds out of thin air around it, leaving us with only brief glimpses of its jagged summit. Thick storm clouds crashed around its base like waves from the ice fields beyond, doubling over on themselves, and reeling back into the grey valleys where they had started. The peak felt massive and fierce, truly awesome.

We spent the remaining four days winding our way through the lush old growth forest, giant boulder fields, dramatic canyons, and expansive river valleys of the park, always in the shadows of the dramatic rock towers and frigid glaciers of the surrounding peaks. With only a few exceptions, we found that we had most of the trails and campsites to ourselves - A sharp contrast to our recent experience on the overcrowded "W" where we were rarely out of earshot from other hikers, and almost never slept more then 4 or 5 feet from the next tent.

Our last day on the trail, we had planned to get up early and hike to a nearby mirador for a glimpse of Cerro Torre at sunrise, the smaller but equally impressive counterpart to Fitz Roy. Unfortunately that day we found out the hard way that these mountains are seen when they want to be seen... Cerro Torre was so thick in clouds we could barely even see the trail that led to the lookout. So we happily slept in a little, packed up camp, and made our way back down to Chaltén where we would spend the night, and head out on an early morning bus back to good ol' El Calafate.

Our third and final time through that cookie-cutter town, we ended up only having about 4 hours to kill before we boarded a night bus for the grueling 28 hour trip up to the Lakes District. It was enough time to stock up on snacks, water, and a little wine to help pass the time on the long trip north.

Torres del Paine

Megan:
After a few days together in Buenos Aires, Molly, Andy, Jon and I flew down south to the small town of El Calafate which would become our transportation hub throughout our time in Southern Patagonia. Except for excellent ice cream, we found little of interest in this town overrun with tour operators and overpriced restaurants.

We did however end up renting a car for a day trip to nearby Glacier National Park to view the Perito Moreno Glacier which was absolutely incredible. Said to be one of the most active and exciting glaciers on earth, the deep blue hued Perito Moreno advances up to two meters per day. We were able to witness its 60-meter high ice-peaks break off and crash into the frigid waters below creating small tidal waves and leaving icebergs floating for miles around - quite a spectacular site.

From there we crossed the border into Chile and spent a day in the small town of Puerto Natales where we were able to stock up on food and supplies to prepare for our first backpacking trip in Torres del Paine National Park.

I have to admit I had some apprehension about all of the trekking we were planning to do in Patagonia. We had mapped out three separate treks of about 4-5 days each with large packs, tents, sleeping bags, cooking gear and enough food for the entire trek. I felt as though the whole month before Molly and Andy arrived I was filled with self-doubt. I was under the impression that everyone else was more prepared for this kind of activity than I was - stronger, more experienced, and maybe more importantly, more mentally prepared. Once we got out on the trail, I was very pleased to discover that almost all of this self-doubt was in my head (as these kinds of things typically are), and that not only could I keep up, but I was able to enjoy almost every minute of it (with a few really steep exceptions).

We spent 6 days trekking along the famous "W" trail where we were blessed with perfect weather (except for a few bouts of the strongest winds I have ever experienced) and spectacular panoramic views of enormous glaciers and snow-covered rocky peaks. During our 6-8 hours of hiking a day we encountered a multitude of glacial lakes, each one a slightly different shade of blue or green than the one before it; watched icebergs lazily float by; witnessed the day's first light illuminate the Torres del Paine (the rock towers for which the park is named); and enjoyed some great conversations.

Jon and I suspected that our time with Molly and Andy would go pretty smoothly, but we have still been pleasantly surprised with just how enjoyable planning the trip and spending large amounts of time together has been. I don't think I've spent this much time with my sister since I was in high school - it's been fantastic. And since Jon and I were packing up our lives at home right around the time Andy and Molly started dating, this month in Patagonia has been our first real chance to get to know him - and what a pleasure it's been.

Our time in Torres del Paine ended up being incredibly rewarding with spectacular natural beauty, meaningful conversations with old and new friends, and a surprising rediscovery of confidence.

A whirlwind update

Megan:
As you may have noticed, it's been quite a while since our last update - this is mainly due to how much we have packed into the past month, but the inflated cost of internet shops lately hasn't helped to motivate us either. In short Jon and I spent the second half of November working our way south through Northern Chile and Argentina in time to meet up with my sister Molly and her boyfriend Andy in Buenos Aires on December 1st. Although a lot of that time was spent on buses, we managed to have some really wonderful experiences in various stops along the way.

Once we were able to get over the completely foreign-sounding Chilean accent, we realized how nice it was to be in a country that is much closer to first world standards. After leaving Peru, our first destination was Arica where we joined a tour to the small town of Putre and the nearby Lauca National Park. We have been making a point lately of doing tours completely in Spanish - a nice addition to just getting an informative explanation. The wildlife in this region of the Atacama Desert was fascinating. We saw llamas and three other related species (vicuñas, alpaccas and guanacos), a large rabbit-like rodent that has a long tail (viscacha), some huge ostrich-type birds (ñandús), an andean condor with a nine-foot wing span, and flamingos.

From there we made our way west to San Pedro de Atacama. Our first impression of San Pedro was that of an incredibly over-priced dusty town that had been stuck in the middle of the desert solely for tour operators and the tourists that supported them. Once we discovered that the next available bus didn't depart for another five days, we decided to give the town a chance and settled in. It took us a full two days to decide that this town had some nice things to offer. As it turns out the only tour we decided to do was fantastic. We began by exploring a geyser field at dawn - an incredible site to witness despite the unbelievable chill that rolls through at that time of day up at 14,000 ft. Once the sun began to shed its warmth, we were able to soak in a thermal pool fed by the geysers. After a number of short stops to become familiar with local flora and fauna, we went on an unexpected hike following a stream into a beautifully sculpted canyon.

After our five-days' wait, we happily crossed into Argentina and stayed at a charming little hostel in the town of Salta. The guys who ran this establishment had a knack and love for cooking and offered to make dinner for whoever was staying there that night. We thought they were making a simple meal of pasta and sauce, but this turned into a four-hour production of making pasta from scratch and a carefully simmering fresh vegetables, meat and spices into an artful sauce. Somewhere in this cooking process, I no longer felt like I had been traveling and without roots for 10 months - I felt like for at least one night, I had come home.

After this delicious home-cooked meal, we slipped away to the quaint town of Cafayate known for its small-scale vineyards and beautiful canyon lands. We spent our first day here attempting to stay hydrated in the heat of the desert red rock as we wandered through the phenomenal layered rock formations. Our second day we enjoyed touring and doing tastings at a few of the local wineries. Our favorite discovery was Torrontes - a crisp white wine exclusive to Argentina - luckily we still have another month in Argentina to continue enjoying this one. We also had the interesting opportunity to tour a local goat cheese factory where we actually ended up acting as translators for the rest of the tour group as we learned about everything from the goat's strictly regimented diet to the classical music they listen to during the milking process - fascinating.

After this whirlwind tour through the north of Chile and Argentina (and a 20-hour bus ride), we arrived in Buenos Aires with a few days to spare before Molly and Andy's arrival. Since we are planning to return and spend the month of January in this bustling cultural center, we spent the last few days of November researching Spanish schools and getting an apartment lined up. While there we also enjoyed meeting up with numerous friends who we had met earlier in our travels and had a great spur of the moment visit from a friend of Jon's from high school.

We were delighted to see Molly and Andy when they arrived safely in Buenos Aires at the beginning of December and spent our first two days together showing them around the city and beginning to catch up. Since then, the four of us have headed south where we've been thoroughly enjoying the Patagonian wilderness. Tomorrow morning we are beginning our third backpacking trip this month, and as you may have guessed, we have a ton of photos and stories that we're looking forward to sharing in the days to come.

Wishing you all happy holidays!

The road ahead

Jonathan:

Megan and I have both been surprised by the underlying tone of negativity our writings have had lately, and it's motivated us to step back for a day or two and reflect on why.

A few days ago we took a gorgeous road trip between the desert oasis of San Pedro de Atacama in northern Chile, and the lush green valley's of Salta in northwest Argentina. For much of the journey I found myself staring out the window wondering why so much of the beauty we've encountered over the past several weeks had been so difficult to enjoy. I was trying to pinpoint the moment that things had shifted for us. What had happened that had caused us to switch so decisively from our spirit of tranquility, to feeling so victimized and targeted?

We had really been enjoying our time in Peru up until Cusco; the northern coast and the Cordillera Blanca had been amazing; and even the initial difficulties we experienced in Cusco hadn't been enough to kill our spirits. Two weeks into our time there we were enjoying ourselves well enough to change our plans and stay an extra week. We were planning a backpacking trip to nearby Ausangate, and... that's when my bag was stolen, from the very agency where we had been planning that trip. Yesterday it occurred to me that I never really let it sink in how difficult that was.

It's pretty normal for me to try to handle difficult situations rationally, but I don't usually do it to such an extent that I completely deprive myself of the emotional experience and the invaluable learning process that inevitably ensues. Regardless, in this case I think I did.

When the dust had settled after the bag was taken - the police reports had been filled out, the insurance claims had been filed, and we had given up hope that anyone would be able to find anything - I sat down to write about the experience. Knowing this blog has served as an excellent tool for processing the powerful and sometimes trying experiences that have defined this trip for the two of us, I fully intended to write about the intense frustration I was feeling in the midst of my tremendous sense of loss - my brand new camera that had just been delivered a few days before, eight months of notes and countless hours of effort I had poured into my Spanish notebooks, my travel journal... my drawings, my reflections, my cultural observations, my goals for when we return home... everything was lost for good. I intended to write about the sense of vulnerability we were feeling, and the distrust we seemed to have developed toward everyone around us, even those who were just trying to help. I titled the post "Reality Check," and I began to write.

To my surprise, I did not end up writing about my intense emotional experience at all. In fact, I didn't even mention the theft. Instead I wrote about how I thought Cusco wasn't such a good fit for the two of us this time around, and we probably just needed to move on. I changed the title to "Then and Now," and I asked Megan if she could casually mention in her post that I had happened to lose all of my most valued possessions. In the second blogging opportunity I had to process what I was going through, "Nine Months Deep," I ended up writing more about how hostile our experience in Peru had felt, and that maybe our trip had peaked and we were just starting to lose our capacity to enjoy ourselves down here. I think there is some genuine truth behind both posts, which is important to acknowledge, but in looking back I think they were both written in an effort to convince myself that the problem was some outside condition, something separate from us.

In my moment of clarity the other day, it occurred to me that a huge part of the negativity we've been experiencing these past few weeks is something we've been dragging around with us from place to place. Peru hadn't changed; we had. That kind of a shift in perception is not something that can be fixed by a simple change of scenery, but it certainly doesn't mean that we have lost our capacity to create meaningful experiences on this trip.

The incredible beauty that has surrounded us since we arrived in Argentina a few days ago has almost forced me to admit that I don't want to finish out these next three months by just going through the motions. I want to be here to experience everything that is waiting for us on the road ahead, and I want to do it with the sense of peace and openness that has already allowed this trip to become the journey of a lifetime.

Nine months deep

Jonathan:
Since We left Cusco, moving on has felt like... well, moving on. We paid a brief visit to the small town of Puno, sandwiched between the Peruvian altiplano and the crystal blue waters of Lake Titicaca. Aside from some breathtaking vistas of the lake and some fantastic restaurant experiences, neither of us were enamoured with Puno itself. We did manage to take a few trips out into the lake on gruelingly slow collectivo water taxis (i.e. 34km = 4 hour journey). One trip was to visit a colony of floating man-made islands inhabited by the descendants of the Uros people, a pre-Inca tribe who began constructing their amazing floating reed homes centuries ago to escape their oppressive neighbors; and another trip was to spend a night with a local family on the remote island of Taquile.

Originally Titicaca was going to be our entry point into Bolivia, where we were planning on spending a significant chunk of time as we worked our way south to Buenos Aires where Megan's sister and her boyfriend will be meeting us in the beginning of December. But, a ridiculous new entry fee (special for US citizens, everyone else enters free), and an escalating political situation in southern Bolivia were enough to persuade us to save that visit for another trip. So instead of crossing the lake, we headed out toward the southern metropolis of Arequipa, the cosmopolitan capital of Peru. While the city remained as handsome and smart as we had remembered from our trip three years ago, our experience there was dampened by two annoying colds (one for each of us), and a strong desire to get the heck out of Peru. After a visit to a local clinic for some industrial strength cough syrup, antibiotics, and a few other drugs (we didn't ask), we bid farewell to Arequipa and Peru. Since then we've been slowly but surely working our way through northern Chile on our way down to Buenos Aires.

Soon after we left Cusco, it occurred to both of us that while the staggering natural beauty of Peru had been some of the most impressive we had experienced on our trip so far, our cultural experience had left us feeling a little bit... played. The vast majority of our personal experiences in Peru were rich with hospitality and cultural exchange. Most of the time we felt very welcome and well looked after, but more than in any other country our experience seemed riddled with little dishonest exchanges - misrepresented services, trick calculators to determine exchange rates, cut corners, theft! - a slew of seemingly shady deals. With the exception of my bag being stolen, no single event seemed exceedingly detrimental. We were cheated out of fifty cents here, a dollar there, we took a few bum tours... nothing epic. But unfortunately it was the dishonesty, not the hospitality that's stuck with us.

Again, we're not sure if it was Peru itself or simply the timing in our trip that drove our experience. For all we know this kind of stuff has been happening to us since we left home, and we've only recently been able to communicate well enough to know about it. Regardless, Peru holds the heavy responsibility of having apprised us of this unfortunate reality, and it holds a slightly tinged place in our hearts as a result.

The grand realization about the nature of our journey which we were hoping to stumble upon on our way south has not turned out to be quite what we expected. We were both hoping to emerge from this past month's doldrums with a renewed sense of direction, motivation, and enthusiasm for travel. Instead we've come to the awkward realization that maybe our trip has already peaked. It seems that for almost 9 months now our time has been filled to the brim with fantastic adventures, rich discoveries, rewarding relationships, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I'm not sure how long that can go on before "rich and rewarding" starts to feel normal. It's not that our experiences are becoming dull, it just seems that lately we're more impressed by feelings of solidity than we are by exhillerating new adventures. Maybe we've been trying too hard.

It's funny how similar this sounds to what I wrote about my experience at Lago Atitlan back in May - about not needing to try so hard to create meaningful experiences. The truth is it's exactly the same realization, it's just nine months deep this time.

Then and now

Jonathan:
It's interesting to reflect on what I remember expecting from Cusco before we arrived four weeks ago. On the long twisting bus ride here, I remember our hearts were fluttering with fond memories of this quaint colonial town and the majestic andean landscape we had grown to adore on our previous trip to Peru three years ago. The rich connection we felt with this place back then, with its culture, its history, and the sheer beauty of the surrounding countryside, played a significant role in our decision to return to this part of the world on this year's epic journey.

In a way, I think my personal style of idealized memory-making may have doomed this return trip to be a little unfairly judged. The memories I had taken with me from our first visit to this part of the world had spent the past three years aging into a rich barrage of images, so enchantingly perfect that, this time around, the bustling reality of this tourist Mecca didn't stand a chance.

This city has undeniable charm. As I look around at the narrow cobbled streets lined by impeccable Inka masonry walls, and the richly textured Spanish architecture that towers above the city's Andean foundations, I can't help but let a touch of the warmth and admiration I once felt for this place swell to the surface. But there's no doubt that over the course of the past month, my sentiments toward this place have changed.

Although we've been here longer than any other city on our trip so far, we've struggled to feel settled here. I don't know how much of our experience has been due to the reality of the place, or simply its timing in our trip. In a lot of ways I think we were expecting Cusco to be able to replicate some portion of the enriching depth we've found in so many other corners of this continent. The reality is that this place already provided us with that experience three years ago, and it almost seems unfair to have expected it again.

Instead, our time here has been riddled with challenges, and it's left us feeling a bit raw. Cusco is seeming to be a place of transition for the two of us - a place of difficult learning, personal reflection, and shifts in self-perception. Once again we're feeling a dire need to step back and redefine what we're looking for and what this trip means for us, to try and shift our perspective just enough to shed some light on an opportunity we may not have recognized before.

Armed with optimism for the renewed sense of direction we hope to find in the weeks to come, we will be heading out tomorrow to the high-altitude town of Puno on the shores of lake Titicaca, for some nice cold mountain air, some rest, and hopefully a fresh start.

Missing passion

Megan:
I have been trying to write about our time in Cusco for the past week and have encountered a lot of trouble making any kind of point. I feel like there were some real challenges as well as wonderful moments, but I think the reason for this block is that when I look back on our time there I don't feel any passion. We both felt relatively indifferent about our cumulative time in school, with our local family, and exploring the city - which is probably more closely tied to where we are in the process of this trip than our physical location.

Most of our past month was spent involved in a Spanish school - studying, living with a local family and getting to know some of the other students. We spent a good portion of our first week talking to the director of the school about things that didn't feel like a good fit for us. This began with the first 'family' we moved in with - we very quickly realized that this location was a 50 minute walk from school, it was really more of a small hotel complete with business cards, and all of the travelers ate at a separate (English speaking) table from the rest of the family. Obviously not our style.

Our second family resolved a number of the previous problems, but we still ended up feeling relatively indifferent about the experience. There were a few substantial conversations where we shared our thoughts on the upcoming presidential election or the conquering of the indigenous people in both of our countries centuries before, but we never really felt like part of the family as we had in previous home stays. We also found conversations around the table quickly turned to English since we shared the house with another couple traveling from the UK who had no prior experience with Spanish. We realized this was not an ideal situation when we found ourselves leaving the house so we could practice speaking a little Spanish on our own.

I found myself confronting the director of the school again regarding whether one of my teachers was really a good fit for me, and trying to get clear what my curriculum would be for the following two weeks since it was not yet apparent to me that there was in fact a plan in place. By the way, as proof that we are in fact learning, all of these conversations now take place in Spanish. After that meeting, things improved, but Jon and I had enough days of only half-understanding what we were being taught, that we were pretty ready when the last day of classes rolled around.

One of the most challenging events of our time in Cusco is that Jon's day bag was stolen. We were in a travel agency discussing the details of a possible upcoming high-altitude backpacking trip, and somehow a man off the street managed to swipe Jon's bag from beside his chair without us noticing. We both went through a range of emotions...disbelief (surely this didn't just happen to us - we're always so careful), anger, an awareness of our extreme vulnerability, complete acceptance (for whatever reason this is what was supposed to happen), and then sadness for all the 'things' that had been lost. We did manage to remain grateful throughout this roller coaster of emotions that we still had everything important - the two of us had not been placed in any danger - and the stuff (Jon's camera and even his travel journal of the past 8 months) could be replaced or at least absorbed into our memories.

Despite the above list of challenges, we were surrounded by some positive experiences too - like the social scene we found at our school. We quickly bonded with a great group of fellow travelers over a cup of tea at school or a pisco sour at night on the dance floor. It seems we had more nights out in Cusco than any other city on our trip. We also had the pleasure of meeting up with our good friends Mackenzie and Bradley from Boulder who were preparing to hike the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu - how wonderful after eight months to see familiar faces who required no explanation of who we were or where we came from. We enjoyed a few trips outside of the city also, like our fantastic weekend excursion to several Inca ruins in the nearby Sacred Valley. After seeing Machu Picchu three years ago, we weren't sure how impressive these sites would be, but once again we were astounded by the incredible craft and level of detail the Incas used in their architecture.

Overall, after four weeks in Cusco, we were both very ready to bid farewell to the city that initially made us fall in love with South America. Hopefully this change of scenery will bring with it the renewal of energy we are both desperately craving.

Si, lo hablo

Jonathan:

I distinctly remember a conversation I had with a friend only a few weeks before we left on this trip in which I boldly stated that I was on the verge of being conversational in Spanish. I'm not really sure where I got that idea - Maybe it was my impressive ability to fluidly ask where the bathroom was, or my deep knowledge of Spanish numbers and colors that gave me my confidence. I can't be sure. Regardless, It took me less than three weeks of traveling through northern Mexico to discover the vast reality of complex grammar and idiomatic nuances that my 2 years of high school Spanish had somehow failed to touch on.

 

When we decided to enroll in classes in Guanajuato 6 months ago, I genuinely thought that two weeks of studying would be just the kick-start we would need to propel ourselves into a frenzy of high-octane learning on the street - I thought we'd be fluent in no time. Well, it turned out that two weeks were barely enough time for me to learn how to say "the more I learn, the more I realize I don't know" (Mientras más aprendo, más sé lo que no sé)... and I meant it.

 

When I look back on the roller coaster ride of confidence and self-doubt that both Megan and I have been through with learning Spanish over the past 7 months, I can't help but smile. Each school experience has propelled our grasp of the language to new levels of depth and complexity, while at the same time shedding light on overwhelming tracts of unexplored territory. It's been hard to measure our progress because with every milestone we reach, the finish line seems to slip further off into the distance. Days of confident in-depth conversation are almost always followed by days where we barely understand what we've just ordered.

 

I've heard that there are several tell-tale signs of being fluent in a new language - when you start thinking or dreaming in it, or when you start to understand jokes. Normally when people ask me if I speak Spanish, I respond with one of several rehearsed responses like, "well, I speak a little," or "we're still learning." These simple responses are usually enough to solicit an enthusiastic nod of approval and sometimes a comment or two that I can't quite catch.

Somewhere in the north of Peru however, I noticed a distinct change in myself. Lately when someone asks if I speak Spanish, for some reason I've simply been saying, "yes. I do." It's not something I started doing on purpose, but the shift in self-perception feels significant. I'm certainly not dreaming in Spanish yet, so I'm not sure where this milestone fits into the quest to be fluent. We will probably continue to have our ups and downs, good days and bad, but for the first time since we left home the horizon seems to be creeping closer.

After a couple of brief sightseeing stops in Lima and Nazca on our way south, we've just completed our first week of studying Spanish in Cusco, Peru. So far we've both been having a fabulous experience with the program, and our latest local "family." Our conversations are becoming more fluid each day, and I have no doubt that from here on it will only become more comfortable to say, "Si, lo hablo."

 

 

 

Such great heights

Megan:
Almost all of our time since our last post has been filled exploring the natural beauty of the Peruvian Andes. About a week and a half ago, we arrived in Huaraz, Peru which has served as our base camp for exploring the stunning Parque Nacional Huascarán. After checking into one of the most beautiful and well-kept hotels of our trip, we set out to explore this high-altitude backpacker haven. We spent some time talking to a few tour companies and other travelers about various trails and decided to tackle the famous 4-day Santa Cruz trek in the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. We were accompanied by our guide Marco, six other eager travelers with varying levels of wilderness experience, and four triumphant donkeys (Blanca, Carlos, Daniel and Pancho).

The scenery in the Cordillera Blanca was jaw-dropping to say the least. Our days were filled hiking through immense valleys of golden grasses, traversing rivers and climbing closer and closer to the glaciers that soar 20,000 ft above. This was the first time I had seen a glacier, and let me tell you, these magnificent towers of ice and rock created a very different feeling for me than any other mountain landscape I'd seen. The sheer contrast of jet-black rock with blueish-white ice and snow was breathtaking. We spent our second afternoon watching the lighting and clouds that surrounded the highest peak continually change. The scenery just kept getting more beautiful, until the sun lit up the clouds with the last of the day's warmth as it slipped behind the ridge and darkness took over.

Our highest pass of 15,500 ft was enveloped in clouds by the time we reached the top - creating a kind of unknown abyss on the opposite side of the ridge as we began to work our way down. Our next campsite at 14,000 ft. actually felt comfortable and sheltered after being face to face with the rugged glaciers above.

When we were not out experiencing the natural beauty of this area, we were enjoying the comforts of our hotel bed...not so much by choice, but more out of necessity. That's right, Jon and I took turns with a stomach bug, but luckily these latest episodes were relatively minor and well-timed - mine was before our trek and Jon's was after we returned. I am pleased to report that today we are both feeling 'normal,' so I think the worst of it is behind us.

It's a little difficult to say goodbye to such a beautiful mountain backdrop, but tomorrow night we'll be boarding a bus for Lima, the bustling capital of Peru. We're ready to see what this city has to offer, even though I expect it will be a pretty stark contrast to the rugged natural beauty we've come to love here.

Moving on

Jonathan:
Our final days in Quito were a hectic mix of cramming in as much quality time with our Ecuadorian family as we could, and checking off the last few museums and sites around town we'd somehow managed to neglect throughout our time there. One of the highlights was an afternoon we spent exploring the museum & gallery of world renowned Ecuadorian painter and sculptor Guayasamín. We were fortunate enough to be accompanied by a thoughtful and articulate guide who provided fascinating insights into the haunting style, and politically charged subject matter of his work.

Our last afternoon was spent at home with our family making homemade humitas - a rich and flavorful Ecuadorian version of the tamale, and something Guadalupe (our "mom") had been promising to teach us to make since we arrived. We shucked corn, cranked grinders, laughed and played together, savoring the final few hours we had to enjoy each other's company. Megan's and my departure that night brought with it a heavy mix of tears, hugs, fond wishes, and heartfelt promises to stay in touch.

After a long trip on a rough night bus, our first stop was the southern Ecuadorian city of Cuenca. We enjoyed exploring the richly textured cobbled streets, and we did our best to readjust to finding restaurants and hotels again after almost six weeks of not having to fend for ourselves. The primary reason for our stop in Cuenca was to allow a trip into Las Cajas national park - a wildlife reserve that is home to some 2000 lakes and a surreal landscape of high Andean tundra.

From there we made brief two-day stop to bask in the lush greenery and supremely laid back warmth of Vilcabamba, before heading down across the border and onto the northern coast of Peru. We've spent our past few days in the northern coastal town of Trujillo, giving ourselves a break between long overnight bus rides and a little time to check out the pre-Inca ruins that abound in this part of the country.

It's been interesting to move on from Quito. We had been there for so long, I think in a lot of ways it was starting to feel like home. We had work, we had a schedule, we enjoyed nights at home with our family - we gained a real sense of familiarity with everything we were doing there, and it was comfortable. It was great to let ourselves dig in, but at the same time I think that sense or regularity left us with a lot of space for our thoughts wander onto the things we desperately miss about home. The things we usually rely on to help us ground ourselves and regenerate are tough to find down here - downtime and happy hours with friends, Saturday mornings at home making coffee and breakfast in our pajamas, my bike... We are elated to be doing what we are doing, and we feel a great sense of appreciation for the adventures and challenges that each new day brings, but it is starting to sink in that a year is a long time to be away from the people and places we hold closest to out hearts.

So, with a mix of fond recollections of our time in Quito and subtle sense of longing for the things we love about home, we are continuing to make our way south through the Andes. Our next stop is the mountain town of Huaraz which we plan to use as a base camp for exploring the dramatic glaciated peaks and jade valleys of the Peruvian Cordillera.