No, not Antarctica.

Speaking of tips, here’s one: if you are going to work and travel at the same time, try to spend more than a week in each place. I learned this the hard way after Peru. I travelled to Argentina and the Chile for almost three weeks. The whole time I worked from my laptop. I took off a few days here and there but largely worked full time.

I wanted to write a whole post about Argentina. I visited Buenos Aires for a weekend and then Bariloche (a mountain town) for a week. And honestly I don’t have many stories to tell. Buenos Aires is a beautiful city with heavy European influence. The Spanish is difficult to understand but people are generally friendly for a big city. The architecture is beautiful. The streets are walkable and shady with big trees lining almost every road. But I was only there for two days. I was exhausted from hiking Machu Picchu and money was tight, so I didn’t really do anything other than walk around.

Bariloche was a peaceful escape. It was the offseason of a ski town, situated on the edge of a gorgeous mountain lake. The town was small and walkable. Plenty of options to eat and drink. Heavy German influence as well. Hmmm. My hotel room overlooked the sparkling lake. I would go down to the windy shore to watch the sunset. But the only notable story was me eating an entire 40oz steak by myself in one sitting. It was probably the best steak I’ve ever had. No sides. Just steak and two whiskeys. The rest of the time I mostly worked. Venturing out for meals or a quick walk. Can’t really complain, there are worse places to be working.

The experience was rejuvenating but not worthy of an epic. I know Argentina has so much more to offer, but despite being there for eight days I can’t say I saw that much. I suppose not every destination needs to have a captivating story, but when a week on the other side of the world can be summed up in two paragraphs, it makes it feel a little hollow.

With that piece of sage advice out of the way, let’s go to the following week.

Puerto Natales, Chile. The southern tip of Patagonia. This was as far south on the globe as I’d ever been. This quaint coastal town had an airport with one gate and one runway. The town itself felt not unlike a North American small town. One story houses with yards and driveways. Many intersections didn’t have stop signs or lights. Some small parks and even a library (where I worked one day).

A few differences. The language of course, for one. Dogs seemed to just wander freely around town. But they were not mangy or even stray. They were all very friendly and I think returned to their home whenever they felt like it. Puerto Natales also had a good variety of restaurants because it served as a base camp for backpackers venturing into Patagonia.

Here I worked a few days, but also took some off because my Dad had come to join me. All the way on the other side of the world.

On the days I worked, my dad ventured off on his own excursions. One day a bus ride, one day a bike ride, and one day a boat ride. He was amazed at the lackadaisical attitude of the town. When he went to rent a bike, the guy didn’t ask for payment up front, a phone number, or even his name. My dad told him his name when he didn’t ask, so the three hour reservation amounted to “John” being scribbled on a napkin.

My dad was also amazed at how much can be communicated when you don’t know the language. My dad has a magnetic energy about him where everyone he meets wants to be his friend. This trip confirmed it even transcended language barriers. On the boat my dad made multiple friends, but one guy in particular he saw on both the bus tour and boat tour. Patricio was certain that my dad was his new best friend.

In my Dad’s words:

“4/24 – Puerto Natales

I had one couple Patricio and Annabella that we seemed to find each other each stop.  Patricio spoke no English but he kept telling me stories and laughing and patting me on the back. Annabella would try to translate but she only knew a few english words.  Oddly enough we started to understand through sign language and some words and I understood they were from Santiago.  He was a character.  At one stop Patricio had Vincente translate to me that he was part of the Santiago mafia and he signaled like he was slashing his throat.  Annabella laughed at all of his gestures, so I kind of laughed too hoping he was kidding.  Soon at each stop he would hand me their phone to take pictures and then force me to give mine so he could do the same for me.  If I missed a picture or selfie with him, Patricio would yell from across the ledge “John, John come here!”  I guess I have a new friend in Santiago. 

4/25 – Puerto Natales

As I boarded the boat I hear from 20 feet away.. “John, John!” .. yes my new friends Patricio and Annabella were on the boat! 

…

Soon we stopped at a dock and we could “hike” 25 minutes to another lookout or 5 quick minutes to a shorter route.  Most everybody took the longer walk and Patricio made sure I was never too far from him.  We walked along a lake with mini ice bergs and got pretty close.  I took some pics but Patricio insisted I take one with them and then he made me pose several times for my own.  Funny, weird and appreciated.

…

As I neared the boat.. “John, John!” was again being beckoned from across the restaurant landscape.  Patricio had made two new friends and he asked (told me) to take their picture with them. I went from being a trusted friend to photographer.  Haha he wanted me in it too.  We got on the boat and Patricio was back at the bar ordering whiskey ( because it was all free if you tipped them).  He quickly ordered one for me whether I wanted one or not.  I joked with the translator that he was only “buying” because it was free and Patricio laughed and smacked me on the back like we were old Italian cousins. 

“

On Thursday of that week, we joined a group hike led by a guide straight into the heart of Patagonia: Torres Del Paine. Early that morning a van drove us into the national park. Early enough, that when we arrived at the trailhead, darkness enveloped us still. Our path before us was 12.5 miles out and back with 3,300 feet of elevation gain.

The writer in me wants to describe the beginning of this hike like: “the gentle snowfall and ominous fog canvassed the landscape in a mysterious, wondrous aura.” But really it was just snowy, cloudy, and cold. When this trip started in Tulum, Mexico on the beach two months earlier, it was hard to justify cramming my suitcase full of my Patagonia jacket and warm layers. Now I thanked my former-self. For once in his life, he planned ahead well. Also the opportunity to wear my Patagonia in Patagonia? That is every white kid from the suburb’s dream.

We had mini crampons (little metal spikes) we attached to our boots to give us traction on the slippery slopes. I feared this would be the whole hike. A wise man once said, “You can’t get mad at weather because weather’s not about you.” Well easier said than done when your fingers are numb and the icy precipitation is stinging your face.

About halfway up was a little lodge where we unpacked our lunches. The hike had pretty much sucked to that point, but no one wanted to say it. No one wants to be that guy. Especially when most had travelled from the far reaches of the world to be there.

The second half of the uphill the weather changed. The skies were blue, but we walked mostly through a forest. Fresh snow caked the ground and leaves and a stillness hung in the woods, only broken by the crunch of boots. Following the river uphill, we were wedged into a ravine that the river had carved, so for most of the time there were no scenic overlooks or sweeping wilderness to behold. Just the quiet trees. It was beautiful nonetheless.

When the forest spit us out, we rested at the base of a rocky outcropping. Hills steeped us on three sides and the trail switch backed on these somewhat precarious rocks up over a hidden ridge. We huffed and puffed up this final climb to discover a hidden alpine lake. What we were supposed to see were the spires of Torres del Paine towering over us and this lake. The weather, unfortunately, had other plans.

The clouds had dispersed elsewhere but hung around the main attraction. Patagonia as a whole, apparently, is foggy and rainy most of the year. “You can’t get mad at weather because weather’s not about you.” I repeated this mantra but honestly it didn’t make me feel much better. We snapped a few foggy photos before conceding defeat and heading back down.

That’s just life. Sometimes you get the perfect day and sometimes you don’t. That’s not to say the hike wasn’t worth it. It was worth it just to try. I got to spend a day with my dad hiking on the other side of the world. The way back down alleviated these feeling of defeat.

In April, it was peak Autumn in southern Chile. The snow from the morning was melting quickly, and the monochrome blanketed forest from the hike uphill was now a fairytale spectrum of tangerine, licorice, coffee brown, and gold. The dusting of snow accented it all perfectly. Birds chirped and now conversations flowed with the excess air our lungs were no longer expending downhill.

But the downhill was not necessarily easier. In addition to the wear on our knees, the ground was still plenty slick and no less rocky. My dad and I, both over 6’3″ and with disproportionally long legs have what you might call a challenged center of gravity. We had a few close calls and maybe saved each others’ lives once or twice, but the only thing bruised was our pride.

As we braved this descent, we talked more with our guide. He was a bit of an adrenaline junkie, to say the least. He has climbed the Torres del Paine spires five or six times. I’ll throw in a picture of what they’re supposed to look like, sans fog, and you’ll see this is no small feat. They are so vertical and take so long to climb that you have to make camp halfway up, staked to the wall overnight. He told us how he brought his ex-girlfriend on one of these climbs. Overnight on the rock face, the winds gusted and howled and temperatures plummeted. The gale whipped the nylon tent walls in a ear splitting roar. As they rocked back and forth in the freezing wind, suspended high above their own mortality, he wondered if the stakes would hold through that sleepless night.

The stakes held, and remarkably they finished their climb to the summit the following day. He also informed us he only had nine fingers. One had been left in the wall after it was caught in a crag on a different ascent. He had to rip it out and finish the climb without it. I believe he said he or a friend was able to retrieve it later. In doing so, him and his climbing buddies hosted a “finger funeral” which they all thought was hilarious.

After listening to his stories, my Dad’s only question was, “So why is she your ex-girlfriend?”

The next day we took a bus tour through the national park. Torres Del Paine national park is about 1.5x bigger than Rocky Mountain National Park. But the entire region of Patagonia, spanning across both Chile and Argentina, is over 400,000 square miles (and one million square kilometers, which sounds more impressive). That’s bigger than Texas, California, and Colorado combined. Also larger than Germany, Italy, and the UK combined. Of the entire region, an estimated 70-80% is sparsely populated or wilderness.

Vast swathes of emptiness characterize the landscape. The ground ranged from dry, tall grasses to almost tundra. In the distance, dark, foreboding clouds shrouded the peaks of Torres del Paine once again, but the rest of the skies were clear that morning. Despite the clarity, there seemed to be a near constant drizzle of rain. More mist than rain. Everything was dewy and damp, which were perfect rainbow conditions. We seemed to have the light refraction follow us everywhere we went.

The road took us along the base of the mountain range around some lakes and hilly viewpoints. Frustratingly, the only thing missing from perfection were the Torres del Paine peaks. The rest of it was incredible. I think most national parks in the world have a “main attraction.” Half Dome, Crater Lake, the Grand Canyon. At least one climactic vantage point. Usually it is the best photo spot and maybe the best spot in general, but I think it’s easy to miss the forest for the trees.

The reason national parks aren’t just three hotels next to a lookout tower is because they are vast ecosystems. This is obvious, of course, but waiting for the expected photo-op may mean you miss the joy of being 100 miles away from anything. The rush of an icy gale suctioning your rain jacket to your body on a hilltop. Watching Andean Condors, the largest soaring birds in the world, glide on the same wind above you. Trying to out run a rainbow following you across a lake so turquoise it could be an 80s ski jacket. Sitting, breathing, and listening for a while.

So yeah, Patagonia’s Grand Canyon, Crater Lake, or Half Dome was missed, but that is just a cherry on top of this expansive and wonderful world we found ourselves in.

Other highlights were a small herd of Guanacos (a type of wild llama), a beer with my dad at a lodge overlooking a lake, and an ancient cave where the best preserved skeleton of a Mylodon was found.

Oh sorry, that is a 10ft long, 2,000lb sloth from 10,000 years ago, for those who didn’t dream of becoming a paleontologist growing up. Found just 30 minutes outside of Puerto Natales, they are so proud of it they built a life-sized statue of one as you enter the town. Not sure when you’ll get the trivia question of “town mascot of Puerto Natales, Chile”, but the answer is a Mylodon.

That was mostly it for our time there. My dad flew home. I flew to Santiago for a few days. I worked the entire time, only having a few hours to walk around. Then I flew to New York, with a connecting flight in Lima. My layover was only an hour or so, and a glacial-like deboarding process caused me to miss that connection. So I stayed the night in Lima, where I had I think my most insane Peruvian cab driver to date. He straight up cut through a construction zone causing road workers to jump out of the way as he sped by.

So my time in New York was only a few days before I returned home. I saw my good friend Connor there where we went to a comedy show and had a few beers while I regaled him with tales of my travels. I had left mid-March and returned early May. Four countries and probably a dozen cities and towns. I did spend a lot of time working. With no lease and no rent to pay back home, our stays in hotels and airbnbs were our rent. This made it much more affordable, but I would not call it a vacation. Having three weeks in Lima was nice. Enough time to get a bit of a routine and several weekends to see the city. One week in Argentina and half a week in Santiago were not enough.

So, what did I learn?

About travel? Less can be more, and more can be less.

About myself? Very little.

About the world? Same as it ever was. 90% of all people I’ve ever encountered are kind, fun loving, genuine souls. Any differences between “us and them” are either trivial or made up entirely.

About life? A good chunk of my time over there was spent working on a ground-breaking project for my company. A week after I got back, as I was putting the finishing touches on this project, I was laid off. Half of the company, my boss and entire team included. The second time I was laid off in a twelve month span.

I spent a lot of time in places I may never see again hunched over my computer working hard for a company who couldn’t give less of a shit about me. The world is an unfair, unequitable place and that fact grows truer every day. It’s important to fight for a better future, and stand up for those who can’t fight themselves. But we, as individuals, can only control so much.

I can’t control macro economic shifts or the whims of a greedy CEO any more than I can control the weather. So when the clouds block the summit of the goal your are trying to climb, maybe take a minute to look around. What a great, wide world we live in with so much to see and do, more accessible than ever. It’s important to stop and (sometimes literally) smell the roses. When the path upward becomes untenable, it’s ok to move sideways or even backwards from time to time.

“You can do everything right and still lose. That’s not weakness. That’s life.” — Captain Jean-Luc Picard, Star Trek: The Next Generation.