Crossing the line.

I am a multi mode traveling expert. I left Salta Argentina for the border with Bolivia. The towns bordering each other were La Quiaca, which I kept calling la cuca, la kika and generally stumbling on the name to many eye rolls from bus company employees and locals, and Villazon. One in Argentina and one in Bolivia respectively. I arrived at the bus station in La Quiaca in the early hours to a bitter cold outside. I had effectively died on the ride there and struggled to regain consciousness from a deep deep slumber. So if you can imagine sleeping so deeply that you wake up but not really wake up and you are completely unaware of who you are where you are and more importantly why is it so damn cold outside and why are people handing you heavy bags and why is the guy handing you the bag holding your other bag hostage until you give him a tip and oh my god I have to pee sooo bad and did I say it was cold? With not a dime to my name in physical currency to pay for the bathroom or maybe a cup of coffee to warm up because the atm in salta was conspiring to make this whirlwind of hellish situations happen, I wandered around aimlessly to at least release this pressure that threatened to make everything even worse. I found a tree, it was dark, it felt really good. 

Ok, got my bearings, and headed for the border. The sun rose as I was walking, the rays felt warm on my face and they revealed the people starting their busy days in a town with nothing obvious to offer except a few coffee and bread shops and hostels for the many travelers just passing through. Reached Bolivia. Or so I thought. See being an American citizen and traveling to Bolivia requires a few hoops to jump through. I had completed the forms online and printed the documents, I had my passport and my yellow fever vaccine certificate, the only thing I didn't have was dollars. As I said before the ATM in Salta wasn't working and the one in la Cuca didn't dispense dollars or have a currency exchange place. Why they require you to pay $160 in perfect condition American dollars is beyond me. Money is money I say. I got the sense that these were measures set to make it annoying if not difficult to enter as an American. 

I went up to the agent and gave all my documents, when he asked for the money I tried to explain the situation. He stopped me mid sentence and said "There are money exchange places across the border, go exchange and come back"

"Wait, over there?" I asked gesturing towards Bolivia. 

He nodded with an annoyed look on his face. 

For some odd reason I was under the impression that I needed to get permission to get into the country to get into the country. He was telling me to go get dollars in Bolivia, come back to the border and pay him so I could get into Bolivia. If this is confusing, you can imagine the stupid look on my face. Still confused I grabbed my things and did as the man said. After I returned he inspected every bill very carefully just to make sure I wasn't trying to trick him and then, I'm not kidding, slowly slid my stamped passport towards me through the little window all while maintaining eye contact in some sort of weird power move. I said thank you through my teeth and promptly left. I guess I have the US relations with Bolivia to thank for this headache. It didn't matter because I was in (cue majestic soundtrack) Bolivia! A very beautiful country, you know they have flamingos and most women wear hats? 

The trip isn't over I have to make it to La Paz which by my calculations was still exactly really far away. Thankfully Villazon has a train that would take me three quarters of the way there to a town called Oruro. I slowly made my way to the train station taking pictures of all the interesting faces and clothing, being the pinnacle of a tourist really. Once at the train station I bought my ticket. There I ran into Cristian and Flaco two travelers making their way to La Paz and beyond. We had a few hours to kill so we talked and shared stories, walked around the town and made a very protective four legged friend that hung out in the bus station with us barking at anyone that approached us. I had found two more traveling companions and a dog, but he had to stay. I feel like I have to mention that this isn't like your common Amtrak station with 5 or so scheduled trains scheduled in 1 hour increments, nope, if you missed the train here you were stuck for at least 24 hours and in a lot of cases more. 

The Wara Wara train arrives and we all board. I love trains, they are great pieces of machinery and their tracks usually go where it is otherwise inaccessible by car giving you a unique landscape. This train delivered on the landscapes, we passed through canyons and valleys where people had farms and were herding sheep in yellow grasslands surrounded by mountains, the people's colorful wardrobe made the stand out against the earth tones of the landscape. This train however had been acquired in the late 60s early 70s and it showed. As it moved it rocked side to side with a lot of creaking, and when I say it rocked I mean you had to be careful not to have your face too close to the window because you very well might smack your face on the glass. The dust, oh my god the dust, as it rolled through the dry landscape it filled with this fine dust cloud that didn't settle until we stopped, 20 hours later. It's amazing what you can sleep through. In honesty it was a fun ride, after traveling by bus for most of my trip a dusty creaky rocky train was a welcomed relief, at least I could walk from car to car to stretch my legs and when it was daylight the Bolivian landscape delivered on beauty. This included the lake near our destination that was peppered with hundreds if not thousands of flamingos. A truly stunning sight. 

Reaching Oruro, another passthrough town in Bolivia, Cristian, Flaco and I made our way to the bus terminal. We grabbed the bus to La Paz, a 3 and a half hour ride marking our trip at about 30 and a half hours, by far the longest trip I have ever been on. I would like a medal. Tired battered and hungry we made it to the city that rests at 3800 meters above sea level. Little did I know how much I would miss oxygen. 

Traveling Alone.

     After saying goodbye to the beautiful city of buenos Aires and getting the first artist to be part of my project, I left to salta on a 18 hour bus ride north west. Bus travel has not really been part of my life so I was pleased to learn the buses have two levels and almost fully reclinable seats. The only thing is that my seat neighbor decided to make like home and take off his shoes... I've never prayed for a stuffy nose until that moment. Thankfully the combination of the outside cold and the over cranked heater inside the bus meant my wish was granted. So breathing through my mouth I managed to sneak in a few hours of sleep.  

Arrived in Salta, to find a city under the cover of low clouds, not to see the sun for a while. If Buenos Aires had been a busy city with lots of activity, people constantly streaming past you with concerned faces and a pace that indicated they needed to be somewhere, Salta was not. It seemed a calmer place but the cold pushed it to feel a more lonely place. I got to my hostel to find it mostly empty save for an older gentleman and a nice lady who offered me mate. I, pretending to know what I was doing, accepted and stirred the mate a bit and managed to clog the "bombilla" (for those of you unfamiliar you drink yerba mate with a cup, also called mate, filled to the top with the herb and hot water is poured until full. Then you use the "bombilla", which is a straw usually metallic, to suck up the water as it makes tea at the bottom. You drink until all the water is gone then you pour water again and give it to your guest or drink another serving for yourself.) I smiled and apologized and though she was nice about it, I could tell she regretted being so kind. 

The empty hostel made for a quiet evening as I sat outside in one of the small yards and smoked a cigarette, browsing the Internet waiting for the last moments of light to disappear. Until I heard a familiar trio of voices coming from one of the rooms. When I was 90% sure I knew them, I knocked and found it was Rachel, Clare and Cameron, three smart young travelers I had met in Buenos Aires. After the mandatory surprise expressions and the oh my gods they kindly invited me to join them on their road trip to Cafayate, a place about two hours south of salta. Oddly enough I had a lead on an artist there whom I wanted for my project so I accepted. They had arranged to rent a car and drive there, it was the best way to travel because we could stop and admire the truly beautiful landscape of mountains, small rivers, giant rock formations and winding picturesque roads that lead the way to our destination. 

Cafayate is a small town surrounded by vineyards. Although not as famous as Mendoza, it still has a good selection of local wines you can enjoy. Which I did. The town itself revolves around a small square surrounded by shops and restaurants that although were clearly targeted toward tourists, weren't too overbearing. That must be the reason I bought a poncho. I also needed a poncho... so yeah, poncho. 

The trio and I decided to stay together for the convenience of filling a room at the hostel and because we actually got along well. We drank some of the local wine and beer together, ate together and enjoyed some of the sights together, generally got to know each other during our stay. I even managed to procure a new nickname. We stayed at a hostel called Casa de Arbol, a very nice calm place with live music in the evenings and a curated courtyard full of plants and flowers. it was a bit hard to leave. 

After a one night stay that turned into a two night stay, photographing a very interesting painter for the project, a flat tire and almost running out of gas while on a dirt road crossing a stunning national park on our way back to Salta, It was time for goodbyes, and we went our separate ways.

Traveling alone was something I was a bit scared of. Not for the concern of safety or anything of the sort, but because the idea of spending that much time by myself with myself isn't something I've practiced and I tend to get a bit lonely. I don't even know if I like me. This short time traveling has pushed me to get to know myself a bit more but there has always been a friendly face to chat with and get to know, or in this case three. So traveling alone doesn't have to mean lonely, I like that, because I'm starting to get on my nerves. 

From the left, Clare, Cameron and Rachel watching the sunset near Cafayate Argentina.

Say Cheese

Obviously i have been pretty bad at writing down my experiences and posting them, but I blame this place. I always end up either exhausted from walking the city, or exhausted from going out at night and eating and drinking into the early hours of the morning. All this to say that the people of buenos aires are machines. This city is vast and most of the sidewalks are tiled which makes them very slippery when it rains but they don’t let that stop them. They work and walk all day then they go out at night but not like normal people THEIR NIGHT STARTS AT 1:30AM When you in your fancy outfit on the other half of the world are already two drinks too many and are stumble calling an uber, these guys are just starting. so thats why I haven’t been posting, I am trying to live like an Argentinian (its not working)

Im not going to go into much detail about the city itself because you can read all about it on some wiki page. Instead I’m going to tell you my experience. I came here to find art and artists living and working on this side of the world. I came in search for some inspiration to help me get out of a creative rut I was feeling. Finding the artists I thought would be easy, so I let myself meet some people and get sucked into the culture and night life at first. When I finally attempted to reach out I got deafening silence in return. Maybe I had worded the messages wrong, maybe they saw or heard something they didn’t like, I really don’t know. Nearing my last day in Buenos Aires I started to get very discouraged and to be honest I was feeling let down, disappointed and a bit of a failure. Here i was in one of the most beautiful cities in South America, famed for its art and culture and i couldn’t get ONE artist to talk to me and share their experience. The city lost its luster. The cold weather had been barely noticed, but when I realized this city was not going to let me in, I felt the cold, in more ways than one.

On the last day, I spoke to Bryan, a local whom i had become friends with, I told him how little response I had gotten and how discouraged I felt, he told me he might know someone. He said he was going to tell him about the project and what i was doing, then get back to me. I had gotten a few leads like that before so i knew not to get my hopes up until…. i got a message from the Ivàn Aurelio. He is a painter and mixed medium artist and is interested in meeting me. FINALLY!! A breakthrough! I did have to extend my stay in Buenos Aires for an extra day but I didn’t care. After 8 days of calling, searching, and finding nothing but dead ends, I got my first chapter.

Arrived

The journey started yesterday. I woke up on Tuesday at 6:30 made sure I had everything, spent some time wondering why my pack was so heavy, moving the last things out of my room and into the garage, made coffee, chain-smoked and generally concentrated on not freaking out while I waited for my friends to pick me up and take me to the airport. You see, i didn't mention this but there is a lot riding on this trip for me. Personally and professionally. 

Professionally I've dabbled in many fields, worked many jobs, all in the same vicinity of each other, which is film production and photography. Ive worked as a production assistant on productions big and small. I've worked as a camera assistant mostly for small commercials and some music videos, a photo assistant on anything from head shots to international advertising campaigns, a DIT, client driver etc etc. Although doing all these things gave me a wealth of knowledge in those fields, they weren't really doing it for me. I became discouraged and then just tried to focus on making money, after all a lot of people seem to be perfectly happy doing a job for the money and then going home. the problem is that made me a bit miserable.I was becoming someone that I didn't like. It was time to make a change. I started making mixed medium art pieces and shooting more photography of my own. I found that it made me happy. So I determined that i needed to find a way to become good enough to make a living out of it. I needed to produce more images and art pieces but I lacked inspiration. That is where this trip comes in. What better way to get inspired than to rip yourself away from everything that is familiar and comfortable, and flood yourself with new experiences and cultures, right? Well I sure damn hope so.

Now we are here, in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Sitting in a tiny room at a hostel, on a bed that is a bit too small and a window that faces the street through which you can hear all the traffic chugging along through a cold and wet day. Struggling to keep my eyes open at1:30 pm because I couldn't sleep on my 3 hour flight to Dallas or the 10 hour flight here, mostly because being tall presents a challenge on airplanes, specially in the "god I wish i could get comfortable" department. Even though this place has its short comings i have to say that the people that work here have been incredibly welcoming. From the receptionist/manager giving pointers and sympathizing with my travel woes to the lovely lady who made me eggs and coffee. they have all made me feel like I'm supposed to be here. So after being overcharged for the cab ride from the airport, learning that exchange rates kinda suck and realizing that the power outlets are not what I'm used to (that last one should have been avoided after repeatedly being asked by a dear friend if i was sure i didn't need an adapter) arriving here has been very, very nice. 

The nerves? the nerves are still there. Swimming around with the doubts and insecurities in my head. Bouncing around sometimes loud enough for me to have a tensing reaction capable of breaking a pencil or bitting my tongue, but at least I'm here now, i took the first big step and thats a huge victory for me, so i think ill head back home tomorrow.

haha

just kidding......? 

Departure is imminent

I have been planning (planning used lightly) this trip for about six months now. The time of reckoning has arrived. 

It is 1am on Tuesday and my flight for Buenos Aires departs Wednesday at 12:40 pm. Nerve racking is a bit of an understatement. You may be reading this and thinking "I would be so excited to drop everything and travel!" to that I say....Shut your dirty mouth!. Ok I didn't mean that, I apologize, its the nerves talking. You see, I am very comfortable where I am. I live in one of the best cities in the world and I have amazing people I call friends. I know how to make money here (not crazy amounts, but I can live comfortably), I know where to go for a crazy night out or for a relaxing cocktail. I know the best places to get coffee and all kinds of food, from all different cultures. I am at home here. it wasn't easy mind you, it took a long time before I could consider Los Angeles my home. Years before finding the bunch of lovable psychos I call my friends. So leaving it behind in search for adventure alone is removing myself from my comfort zone, a really really comfortable zone, like fluffy pillows comfy. This is where you come in and say "but David, you are only leaving for 3 months, what the hell is wrong with you?" I DONT KNOW! thats my response. There is something about this trip that feels like the end of something. I really don't mean to come off as dramatic but it feels like I won't come back to this life, not the same life. So thats why im nervous. Its not the trip itself I guess, its more the ripple effect that disturbing these warm waters will cause. An end of something is the beginning of something else right? Well I sure hope so, and I hope its as great as what I have now...actually I hope it is better (there are definitely some areas of my life that could improve) 

I am traveling alone but I would love if you would join me by checking in once in a while on this site and maybe sharing it, if you like it. I'll try to post daily. Pictures, videos or rants. Thanks for reading.