El Valle de la Luna, San Juan — August 2008.
Week 9, Day 6: Saturday, August 2, 2008.
11:35 a.m. — Was supposed to head to Valle de la Luna last night, but Will showed up. Went with him to change my bus ticket. Had a big dinner of pizza and empanadas at the house. Afterward, headed to a club nearby and danced until 4. Was woken by Antoniya who was trying to open the front gate and couldn’t. The lock was broken again. Louise and Marion had to crawl in through the half-story window with our help. Laughing so fucking hard. Marion came in awkwardly with feet first. Louise head first but got her shirt caught on the window. Shit. What adventures at home. Adventure everywhere. Es la verdad. In San Juan tonight. Have to figure out what I want to do tomorrow. Maybe I don’t need a night there. Oh the prices I pay for friends and friendship.
11:00 p.m. — Sitting on the bus for San Juan. Just said goodbye to Will again. Buen viaje. A mi tambien. I’m afraid, but this is what I must do. Besides my Spanish has gotten much better. We’ll see. Have no real plan. I will have to figure it all out when I get there.
Week 9, Day 7: Sunday, August 3, 2008.
8:40 a.m. — Arrived on time. San Juan. Have to stay a night because the bus left at 7:30 a.m.! I arrived twenty minutes later. The next bus today is at 2. Que mala suerte. Y es domingo, entonces no hay nada que esta abierta. Anyway, managed to find a hostel. Checked in. I’m not forced to spend a night here because of that maldito colectivo. Che culiado. I guess I’m missing tango and Spanish class. Shit the fuck. But it was really great to see Will in Cordoba. Now I have to figure out Chile and Iguazu and Uruguay.
3:27 p.m. — Took a long nap. Laid in bed. Went out in the early afternoon for a walk. Found a small grocery store and bought cookies, chips, Coke for tomorrow. Found also a take-out parilla and bought a decent and delicious cut of meat. Ate half for lunch; the other half will make a small dinner. Apple and cinnamon cookies. Meager provisions shall last me tomorrow, I hope. I’m pretty bummed about having to miss Spanish and tango actually. I think I’m most upset about that. I’m silly like that. But I’m very invested in both. Ah well.
6:00 p.m. — Went for another walk. Found small parks and sat reading Marquez in the afternoon sun. Strange Pilgrims – a collection of short stories. Didn’t walk too much – hardly a point because it’s ghosttown domingo. It’s a very pretty town thought. Like Mendoza. Cleaner than Cordoba. Far smaller, fewer people. I do wonder what it’s like on the weekdays. I think my favorite city so far is still Mendoza. It has a charm to it – quaint, country charm. Though in many ways, it is just a miniature Cordoba. Thinking about manana. Hope it works out. I must be on a bus heading back though. I must. What would be fan-fucking-tastic would be if Valle Fertil has a bus out to Cordoba, so I don’t have to return to San Juan. Not sure. Most definitely should figure that out before I leave San Juan tomorrow morning. I have to catch the 7:30 a.m. bus out to Valle Fertil. Would be fucked if I didn’t. I worry so much when I am alone. I do the worrying for three people. Can’t be good for my blood pressure. Glad I had this relaxing day. Didn’t see much, do much that couldn’t be seen or done in Cordoba, but a mini test of my independence is necessary before I take on Chile.
9:20 p.m. — I want to go home. Why? Not home home. Cordoba. I wasn’t at all prepared to stay the night or miss castellano y tango. I came all this way and all I want is to go home so I can learn Spanish and tango. How strange. I’m seriously beginning to question Chile – if only because I want to spend what time I have with Ursula and Pablo. How strange indeed. I wish Wayne from Colorado stayed the night. I could have used the company. Now I’m in my room with three other empty beds. Alone. The people at this hostel came in huge family groups so it’s not very conducive to meeting people and talking. Brief conversations with Wayne – late 40s, from the military, traveled through much of the Latin American world. Oh, I’m so lonely. I’m so much weaker than I thought. Che culiado. No, it wasn’t that bad at the hostel in BA. It’s just the types of travelers at this hostel. I suppose it’s about time I saw this side. The hostels before were above average, I guess. Plus, the Marquez stories are just depressing me also. I should stop reading those right now. Why am I considering going home on the 11:15 bus? What’s wrong with me?
Week 10, Day 1: Monday, August 4, 2008.
12:45 p.m. — Fucked over again. Have to stay another night. In Valle Fertil. If I had known that only excursions went to the park, I would have fucking come out here yesterday and could have left tonight. Fuck, che culiado. Now that I’ve gone through so much trouble and suffering, I have to fucking go. Fuck. Who knew it would be such a fucking hassle? I think now I can’t go to Chile. Fuck. Much thinking to do. Got up early this morning. Very early. 6:30. Caught the bust to Valle Fertil. Got here at 11:30, but the fucking tour – which I have to take if I go – doesn’t start until 2:30. Won’t make it back for the 5:00 bus to San Juan obviously. Then. Christ. I have to now. Should, however, find out if there is a midnight (3:30 a.m.) bus back to San Juan. Should definitely figure that out. Because I think there is a noon bus out of San Juan to Cordoba. I hate my fucking luck. Shit that fuck. However, met a kind couple on the same bus from the same hostel. The man looks like an older Stellan Skarsgard. They are extremely kind and tried to help me this morning/ afternoon. Anyway. Should really find a bank and go back to that tourist office. And the bus terminal to ask about the 3:30 a.m. bus back to San Juan. Suerte to me.
1:30 p.m. — Going. Am glad. All this fucking trouble but it will be worth it in the end. My Spanish is better. I can talk to people.
9:30 p.m. — “Where do I live?” (Me, after coming out the mercado to the corners of the plaza that still confused the hell out of me. Laughing outloud at myself all the way home.) Bought crackers and beer for dinner. Van of 19 going out to Valle de la Luna. With Stellan Skarsgard and his wife. Wasn’t until we were being dropped off that I learned his name is Pedro – an artist – and the wife, a psychologist. (Wow, talk about horrid syntax and punctuation.) Rode through the park. Lovely views. Stellan said to me – about the windy, dusty sites – “It’s more mystic when everything is gray.” Dusty desert. Cold actually. So windy. A 20-year-old girl from BA told me my castellano was good. I paid up my ass to hear that. Gracias. She had been learning English since she was 5. Traveling on my own isn’t that bad. I just had a horribly lonely evening last night. I’m glad I stayed. Of course, por supuesto, I’m glad I stayed. What a silly thing to say. Anyway, will be leaving at 3:30 tonight. Have to get back to Cordoba now. Looking forward to seeing Ursula and Pablo. I am fucking weird. I look forward to seeing my profes more than I do my friends.
Week 10, Day 2: el martes, 5 de agosto, 2008.
12:00 p.m. — On the bus to Cordoba. About to leave the San Juan terminal. I made the 3:30 a.m. bus. Che, was almost culiado again. No asientos libres. But I looked so sad and pathetic apparently that the lady at the counter just told me to get on the bus. Couldn’t sleep much. Saw seven or eight shooting stars, whilst swigging leftover beer. Oh yeah, and if I didn’t get on the 3:30 bus, the next bus would be at fucking 2:00. There was no 7:30. Good thing I decided on the 3:30. Would have had to return on the 11:00 p.m. bus. Well, thank god. The first time this weekend, luck was on my stupid side. Occupied myself with Fitzgerald, Gatsby. It’s not that fucking good. What’s the big fucking deal? Café con leche c/ dos medialunas at the café in the terminal. Internet for 40 centavos for 15 minutes. Sat in the sun on a curb, reading with sunbathing stray dogs. Life. It was cold this morning. Glad I’m on my way back home.
4:00 p.m. — Still aways to go. Read. Napped. What a bright cloudless day. “On our way home, we’re on our way home.”
11:35 p.m. — Oh how fine it is to be back in my bed my room my house my street my neighborhood my city.
