I have seen

It has been almost three weeks since we arrived in South America, and it somehow feels as though we have just left Canada and also as if it has been months since I last saw it. Tons has happened - yet when compared to the 100 odd days we have left, our journey has hardly started. Despite this, I have seen so much..

I have seen Montevideo, where crumbling colonial style apartments attach themselves to shiny, glass walled hotels. Where long haired businesswomen in pantsuits and pumps walk down cobblestone streets; and old men wheel rickety, fruit laden carts to their produce stands and grocery shops. It is a city that seemed to move in bursts - a trait I would later learn it shared with most of the country - where activity seems to grind to a complete halt a few times a day only to recommence full speed an hour later.

I have seen Punta Del Diablo, a small surf town. There, I watched as surfers took to the beach twice a day when the surf was up, and as the streets seemed to empty almost entirely in between their visits. The town seemed half filled with hostels and hotels- many closed for winter - the rest of the streets were lined with an array of whitewashed, thatch roofed beach huts; cozy cabins; and small restaurants. It was slow in Punta Del Diablo, a place for long walks and lengthy conversations. It was a place where you could take a hike through the rain to a nearby national park (exactly what we did) and surround yourself with a jungle of smooth barked trees and low hanging branches.

I have seen Cabo Polonio, a sort of permanent folk fest - filled with colorfully painted hostels and shanty beach huts and all topped with solar panels and wind mills. Populated mostly by dread-locked, off the grid, down to earth hippies. It is a place I can only truly describe by being filled with sand and wind. To arrive means driving over sand dunes in a massive 4 wheeler. Staying means walking along sand packed roads, sleeping in mysteriously sand filled sheets, and getting used to finding it pooled in every pocket and shoe you own. It also means getting used to the constant blow of wind through your hair and the creak of the walls at night.

I have seen and climbed the rocky terrain of the Sierra Rocha mountains, where sweet trees fill the air with a sugared scent and everything grows green. It is a place where walking along the narrow paths leaves your legs and arms scratched by cacti and mistletoe bushes, and where the stars shine brighter than any I have ever seen. The ranch we stayed at was a place where our house was pieced together with sandbags and truck tires, where horses wandered a yard half filled with organic garden, and a dalmation named Devina roamed where she pleased.

I have seen Colonia de Sacramento, filled with quaint restaurants and art galleries, and with ice cream sent from heaven. It was a place where a sunset over the port was bright, and the view of the ocean uninterrupted save for the high towers of Buenos Aires in the distance.

I have seen the skyscrapers and theater fronts of Buenos Aires, where stony faced people walk in hundreds down the streets and traffic stops for no one. It is a city where overwhelming wealth lives next to overwhelming poverty, where businessmen eat in expensive restaurants as homeless men sit outside of them. It is bright lights and busy streets, with bundles of power cords the size of tree branches hanging overhead. Buenos Aires is a sensory overload of lights and colors, traffic horns and staticky radios, road side food stands and pastry shops, spray painted subway trains and bustling antique markets. It was a city with little rhythm or sense, but lots of everything else.

Now we are in Rosario, where the traffic stops for a few more people, and massive portraits decorate the sides of many buildings. It is a city built haphazardly, sprung up seemingly of its own accord of what was once a small trade port. It is filled with old buildings, converted into art galleries, theaters, schools, and even imagination centers for children. It is a place with little notariety, but seemingly lots to discover. I'm sure we will be busy, as the next week we will spend lots of time observing the walls of a Spanish language classroom and the rest of our hours on adventures of our own.