In our last episode, we were on our way to Singapore. From this rocking train car in India, it seems like a lifetime ago. We are en route to Agra for our journey’s tourist attraction grand finale: the Taj Mahal. But let’s get back to Singapore for a moment. We have a lot of catching up to do!

Singapore is incredible. Beautiful architecture, gardens, shopping centers… and so clean. Fred tells me that gum is illegal there.  What’s more is that I believe him. We arrived at the Intercontinental in the afternoon, jet lagged and bleary-eyed. (No wonder I liked Singapore – we stayed in a couple of very nice places)

That evening my fun, creative husband took me on a date to “Lockdown” – a live mystery game place. It was so cool. They locked us in a room and we had to decode the mystery given what we could discover in the simple, sparse room. We didn’t solve the entire mystery, but I like to think we would have gotten there given enough time and a little less jet lag. It was so fun. I can’t wait to go back and try the other rooms.

Two days in Singapore was not nearly enough to fully experience the place, but I expect we’ll be back. After Singapore, Fred and I went to different places. He had work to do in Manila, and I was going to Sri Lanka to do some volunteer work. After all this time together, 24/7, it was really hard to say goodbye. Or maybe it’s always hard to leave my incredible, handsome, amazing husband… (the one looking over my shoulder as I write this)

I’m going to save the report of my adventures volunteering in Sri Lanka for another post. For now I’ll jump ahead to Sir Fred’s triumphant arrival in Colombo. Unfortunately, he arrived an hour late and sans suitcase; our first and hopefully only lost-luggage experience of the trip. After a few short hours of sleep, we hopped the early morning train to Kandy, the ancient hill country capital and home of the sacred Tooth Relic.

In Kandy we spent an afternoon at the botanic gardens, where we saw monkeys on a trash pile, and then went to see a performance of the legendary Kandy Dancers. The dance critic in me came out in full force here. Maybe I just don’t get it. Or maybe they were having an off night. Either way, I was embarrassed for them, and after an hour of being embarrassed, I was exhausted. We went back to the hotel and skipped seeing the Tooth Relic ceremony. I’m sure the Buddha won’t mind that we didn’t go pay respects to his tooth.

The next day we went to the Pinnawala elephant orphanage. It was actually rather sad. The mahouts don’t treat the elephants very well – they only seem interested in getting you to come close to their elephant for a picture so that they can ask you for money. Nothing like the amazing experience we had in Laos at the elephant sanctuary near Luang Prabang, where we befriended Mae Bunam who took us on a ride through the river and let me feed her bananas. Still, the elephants were amazing to watch. I just wish I had more confidence that they are well cared for and happy. It’s the same dilemma that I have with zoos. I want to see the animals, but I get so sad that they are in captivity – I want to run rescue missions to free them back into their native environment! But maybe zoo life is preferable to the threat of predators? I don’t know.

At this point my intrepid husband decided we needed a car and that he wouldn’t mind driving in the insane Sri Lankan traffic. So we took a train back to Colombo, picked up a car, and drove across the island to Arugam Bay. All in one long day. The drive was brutal and scary and amazing… I’m just grateful Fred was driving. SO hectic, crowded and stressful. But also incredibly beautiful, as we drove through the hill country and saw some amazing scenery. And more monkeys! The red-faced monkey lives in the hills, and the grey languor, with its long tail and triangle-shaped head, lives in the coastal forest near Arugam.

Again we got skunked on the surf. I didn’t catch a single wave the whole week, but I did get a board and fins to the back when a kid wiped out near me. Fred did a little better on his big rented foamer. I should have followed his lead and rented the biggest board I could find. But I didn’t. Fred might tell you that it’s because I never listen, but that’s not true. It’s because I am incredibly vain and only care about how I look. I don’t want to look like a beginner on a foamer! I mean, obviously, I only care about looks – check out my post-surf tuk-tuk hairdo in the photos. Oh the glamour!

We drove back to Colombo via the southern route through part of Yala National Park and spent two days in Hikkadua. There we met a yoga teacher/surfer who is rivaled in intensity only by our surfer buddy Scott at Morocco Surf Adventure. For those of you who know Scott, imagine him about 15 lbs skinnier, all bones and sinew, and talking passionately about yoga instead of surfing. Intense dude. His yoga classes were cancelled due to rain, but I can’t wait to go back and study with him. It might break me, but I’d love to catch some of the fire that man has. He promised to teach our spines how to dance, and that we’d do it by following his guru’s ABCs system. He even gave us laminated cards depicting the series. It looks freaking hard.

From Sri Lanka we flew to Bangkok. By this time I had a cold, so I spent at least one full day there in bed. We had a few meetings, took care of some business and basically recharged. No “Hangover 2” for us in Bangkok! We’ve done the tourist attractions there before, so I don’t feel a bit bad about not seeing more of the city.

After three short days in Bangkok we were off to Hong Kong. We arrived to find warnings posted all over the city about the impending Typhoon Usagi. By then Fred had caught my cold, so after a delicious breakfast at The Flying Pan, we holed up in our little Sheung Wan hotel room to watch the storm from our amazing corner window vantage point. The city basically shut down, and it was cool to see the empty streets, but ultimately it was like watching a rain storm.

The next day we took the tram up Vitoria Peak, walked around the loop at the top, and then walked all the way down to Central. On our way down we wandered into the Hong Kong zoo and visited with the lemurs. I always seem to stumble into this zoo when I’m in Hong Kong. Perhaps all roads lead to the zoo? After our walk, I took the second-most expensive yoga class of my life at Pure Yoga. Having gone so long without a proper class or a place to do my own practice, it felt totally worth it.

And then, in the blink of an eye, we were back on the train to the airport to fly to Manila.

Now, Fred has told me repeatedly about what a difficult place Manila is. The “nice” parts are giant shopping malls, and the “real” parts are third-world slums. So I was very surprised to actually enjoy our time there.  Another amazing fancy hotel experience didn’t hurt. They upgraded us to a room with incredible high ceilings, the most ergonomic bathtub I’ve tried, chocolate truffles with a card addressed to a Mr. So-and-So, and a view of Hermes and Gucci shops from the massive windows.  Who could ask for anything more?

Some facts about Manila. The world’s largest mall is there. All expat life revolves around the various malls. The traffic is always bad, no matter what time of day. There are stray cats everywhere. Certain defunct US restaurant chains are alive and kicking here (Shakey’s Pizza, anyone?). “Jeepneys” are a typical mode of transport for locals. “Vegetarian” dishes often have meat in them. No, not like they used a little beef stock in making the dish, but they actually put a ton of ham, beef and pork bits in there. (See “Assorted Vegetarian Meat in Basket” photo)

While in Manila, Fred and I became godparents. One of Fred’s business associates had a baby on Sept 26th and asked us to be her Godmother and Godfather. Which makes sense because Fred’s resemblance to Marlon Brando is uncanny, as is his tendency to make offers that you can’t refuse. But seriously, her name is Vania and she’s adorable. We got to meet her on her first day in the world. So cool.

The hospital is near Greenhills Shopping Center. Another Manila fact: You can buy real designer handbags at full US-level prices in malls like Greenbelt or The Fort, or you can go to Greenhills to buy the fake versions. Here you will experience the most aggressive sale tactics as you wind your way through the endless stalls of bags. You will be attacked with cries of “SIR MAM BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG?!?!?” and “MY NEW BEST FRIEND! LOU VATAAAWWWN?!? SIR!?!? BAAAG!!!” as they grab your arm and shove bags in your face.

I will admit – I was sad to leave the luxury of Manila, but knowing that we were headed back to Hong Kong made it easier.

On our second stop through Hong Kong, we took a ferry to Kowloon and walked around the madness of Mong Kok, the most densely populated place in the world. We stopped at a Starbucks to try to rest and use the internet, but it was standing room only. Eventually we got two stools at an occupied table.

The highlight for me on this stop was stumbling onto the best cup of coffee we’ve had since Europe.  The Cupping Room was just across the street from our hotel, but sadly we only found it on our last morning there. We had breakfast there and then came back for one more coffee before heading to the airport. We got to watch them sampling the coffee (called ‘cupping’ – hence the name of the shop). They obviously know what they are doing. My latte was perfection – no need for even a drop of sugar. And then in a flash, we were back in the Hong Kong airport to catch a flight to Delhi, India.

And India, my friends, is another story.

We arrived in Avellino, Italy, the home of my ancestors, about an hour ago. It’s siesta time (nap time is not limited to Spanish-speaking countries), and Fred is partaking in a much deserved rest. The internet here in the hotel is adequate, but I’m not about to push the limits by trying to upload photos. Instead, I’d like to offer a short post on the unsung heroes of this trip. This is not so much a travel tips entry as a shout out to the things that have been indispensable on our journey thus far.

When we set out we agreed to travel light, packing only one carry-on suitcase and one “personal item” each. (No, Fred does not have a murse. He has a messenger bag.) This is normally standard operating procedure for us; but this time it was a particular challenge.  We were packing for more than six months away and for climates ranging from tropical jungle to glacial, for styles ranging from urban chic to beach bum, from cultures ranging from Muslim to Hindi to Catholic.

So here’s a short list of the things that have helped me travel light and have been the most useful in terms of the space and weight in the bag that they occupy. The most bang for the kilogram, so to speak. BTW – I will receive no compensation for promoting these items, no payment for linking to these websites… nada. This is not product placement. This is my honest opinion and a genuine acknowledgement of products that truly rock my world. 

#1: Solid shampoo from LUSH. This stuff is amazing. It takes up hardly any room in your suitcase, is super light, and doesn’t need to go in the ‘liquids and gels’ sandwich bag. I have the Soak and Float for my dry scalp, and NEW!  because it smells nice and Soak and Float is stinky. I can’t believe how well it lathers up, and it seems to last forever. I’ve had mine for months now and they are still going strong. I’m not as enamored with the solid conditioner, unfortunately. It smells great but is not as effective in getting tangles out as most any other liquid conditioner.

#2: Charlie’s Soap laundry powder. One tablespoon is all you need for a large load of laundry, so in a small Ziplock bag I have enough laundry soap to last six months. It’s non-toxic and biodegradable and it gets our clothes really clean. I use it to hand wash laundry and I use it in machines. When you wash your clothes often you don’t need as many outfits. And when you have laundry powder on hand it’s much easier to deal with the last-minute-late-night-I-have-no-clean-underwear problem. Charlie’s Soap has been a lifesaver. On the downside, I think it has caused me to get stopped in the airport security line a few times. Oh the laughs I’ve had with TSA officials over the unmarked white powder brick in my suitcase…

#3: Wheelie Bag. The night before we left we had dinner with a friend in Cabo and he laughed at my suitcase. “How can you be backpackers if you don’t have backpacks?!” Well, for the record, the wheelie bag is the new backpack. It has saved my back and shoulders considerable stress and has never once been an impediment to our more rugged adventures. Not once.  The wheelie bag rules.

This morning I was lying at the bottom of a pile of people in the entrance to the bull ring in Pamplona, Spain. There was no way out, and the bulls were coming.

We decided rather haphazardly and at the last minute to attend the running of the bulls. While visiting business schools in Europe, Fred and I met someone who was headed to Pamplona for the opening day of the San Fermín festival. Well sure, that would be interesting to see. Once in a lifetime, right? I feel bad for the bulls, though.  And it seems like such a stupid, macho thing to do. Running with bulls, trying to touch them, risking death or severe injury.

Our friend Simon was on his way to meet us in Southwestern France. Good surf, nice beaches… maybe we’ll pass on Pamplona this time. Except the surf went flat and we were having trouble finding accommodation at a reasonable price. So okay, it’s off to Pamplona! We met people on the beach in San Sebastian and in the streets of Pamplona who had run. No problem! It’s easy, just play it safe. Well okay, maybe I’ll just start near the end, run way ahead and get into the bull ring before even seeing the bulls. I don’t care if the people in the bull ring stands boo me. I’m just not letting my husband run without me.

I read up on running strategy, what to do, what not to do, how many people on average get gored, how many people have died, what to look out for and where on the course people typically get in trouble. If you fall, stay down and cover your head. Watch not just for the bulls behind you but for the people who fall in front of you. Don’t drink the night before and don’t run drunk. Get some sleep the night before. Wear the outfit, don’t carry anything and respect tradition.

Prior to the Encierro I never once felt truly scared. I was playing it safe, remember? I got eight hours of good sleep the night before. I don’t drink, so running drunk or hungover wasn’t an issue. I’m in pretty good shape, and can run fast when I need to. Being a small, nimble person, I can also scamper, jump, climb, leap, and squeeze under fences no problem. I had on the white shirt and pants, red scarf around my neck, red sash around my waist, and my good Nikes. I felt confident that I was taking the safe, non-macho approach. I had no daredevil pride, nothing to prove. I was ready to flee and scamper and look foolish in the name of safety.

There were all types of people near us where we waited for the start. There was the Englishman who lives in Florida, in Pamplona for his buddy’s 50th birthday, who was chatting with a young German fellow. In front of me were two older guys from Southern Cali, both taking pictures with their iPhones. A group of young guys from Portugal were recording a video for their grandkids on a smartphone. One of the youngsters high-fived me for being one of only two girls he saw in the lineup. He said, “You’re really cool!” and I replied, “Or maybe really stupid!” I still had no idea, no fear.

When the rocket went off and the running began, I was maybe 50 feet from the entrance to the ring. No problem! I will just run in, go left and hop over the wall. I was watching in front, and glancing behind. No bulls yet, and I’m in the entrance hall to the ring. All good. Then before I could see or react to anything, I was pushed onto a pile of bodies blocking the entire entrance to the ring. And in seconds I was face down in the dirt with the whole mess of people on top of me.

At the bottom of the pile of people, when I realized there was no way I could claw my way out, I resigned myself to death and braced myself for the impact of bull hooves crushing my skull. There was a man’s leg underneath me, twisted out at an impossible angle. I heard someone screaming, wailing. My mind interpreted the sound to mean ‘please dear God help me’ but I have no idea what language he spoke or if he even used words at all.

The sound of the crowd (screaming in horror? cheering?) came in waves. At each crescendo, I imagined the bulls fighting their way over the mountain of bodies. I tried to do what was advised, stay down and cover your head. I said out-loud, “I’m going to die.” I thought about my husband, who was behind us, and hoped he didn’t get caught. I thought about Simon, who was ahead of me, and hoped he made it into the ring.

I never thought to pray. All my yogic training went out the window; all the chants I’ve learned for these dire situations, they never crossed my mind. I simply shut down and prepared for the final blow.

There was open space just ahead of me, but I was hopelessly pinned to the ground. I dug at the dirt with my hands. I saw people on top of me getting pulled out of the pile. I began to scream for help reaching my arms out, completely helpless. I have never felt so helpless in my entire life. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, a man began to pull my arms. He was wearing the bright official gear of the medics and other professionals on the scene. It was hopeless, he couldn’t pull me out. Then another man grabbed my arm to help. They pulled me right out of my running shoes. I never even saw their faces as I sobbed “thank you” and ran for the edge of the pen. 

When I got to the wall and tried to climb over, there was a man on the other side holding his viewing spot, unwilling to move or help me. My friend Simon spotted me trying to get over the wall, begging for help, and came to my rescue (the second rescue in perhaps 30 seconds). He lifted me up and over the wall. I stumbled to sit in a filthy corner of the walkway.

Then the panic hit that my dear irreplaceable love of my life might not be okay. In the third lucky stroke of the morning, I then saw him walk past unharmed. The three of us all made it out of complete disaster, far better than so many of the people around us. There was a guy, young, sitting next to me sobbing and trying to call someone on his cell. I couldn’t understand what he said, but I reached out and held his hand. People were going by on stretchers.

We had to fight our way out of the stadium. I had dirt, skin and blood scraped down the front of my legs and my right elbow. I felt a stinging lump on my forehead, probably from someone kicking my head. I walked a bit in my socks through the wet streets; sloshing through piss, puke, broken glass and plastic cups. Fred insisted I let him carry me, so for several long blocks I rode piggy back.

I didn’t even see a bull and yet my life flashed before my eyes, and now I’m hurting. Bad.

I read all the accounts of how amazing you feel afterwards. That feeling of having cheated death, to live to fight another day. That’s such crap. I feel horrible. I was completely helpless, and then totally unable to help anyone else. I feel guilty that the guys spent their energy pulling me out, when so many others still needed attention. My heart aches for the senseless suffering of the people and the animals in that Encierro. Above all I feel shame for having participated. Of all the stupid things I’ve done in my life, this is by far the most idiotic. 

I’m sharing this with you in the hopes that, if you are someone searching the internet for “tips on running with the bulls” or “how to stay safe in the Pamplona Encierro,” you will read this and think twice about participating. It’s just not worth it. 

At the bottom of the pile of bodies, my mind kept trying to comprehend how I ended up there. I never took the warnings seriously, and I listened to too many drunken bravado stories of survival. I was cocky. I thought I could outsmart, outrun, and out scramble the thousands of others in the run. I thought I was playing it safe. I thought the odds were in my favor. Perhaps they were, but I still got trampled.

The wonderful woman at the pharmacy, who is also named Laura, said it is my “nuevo feliz cumpleaños” or “new birthday” today. July 13, 2013, the day I cheated death. The day I was born again. It doesn’t feel that way. I’m sad and embarrassed, my knee is swollen, my body hurts, my skin stings. Never again.

I also didn't know that the bullfighters later kill these bulls in the ring. I'm horrified to have participated in such a barbaric event. I'm a vegetarian because I refuse to let animals be killed for my gastronomic pleasure. What is wrong with me that I didn't think this through?

To the men who pulled me out, I feel the deepest respect and gratitude. To all of the amazing people, putting their own lives at risk to help others, I bow humbly. The firemen, police, and paramedics on the scene… I do not know how they do it. I am humbled and I am so grateful.

Fred and I decided: It only qualifies as an "adventure" if you swear you'll never do it again. Taking a boat down the Amazon was definitely an ADVENTURE.

When we went to the port in Manaus to check it out, the guy selling the tickets gave us a ride in a little speedboat to where the Liberty Star was docked. We scrambled from the speedboat up the side of the big boat, climbing on the big tires and over the rails... and we were hooked! "What a fun adventure this is," we thought. This was before we established the definition for "adventure."

Most locals hook up hammocks for the ride, but we decided to go big and get our own cabin. Not one of the cabins with bunk beds, but the "Master Suite" with a double bed and private bathroom with a shower. We even talked him down a bit on the price, so for just $500 we were going to cruise down the Amazon in style.

Just so you don't make the same mistake we did, here are some details on the unpleasant surprises. But make no mistake, I'm glad we did it and I'm grateful to have had this experience.

Unpleasant surprise #1: The bathroom uses river water. Brown, stinky, unfiltered river water. We wouldn't even wash our hands in there, so no way were we taking showers. For five days. No showers for five days.

Unpleasant surprise #2: Not only is the food horrible, it's expensive. We had heard that 3 meals a day were included in the price on most boats. Not on the Liberty Star! Hello chips and cookies for breakfast lunch and dinner.

Unpleasant surprise #3: The pipe. In the room. Rattling with the vibration of the engine. All day. All night. Like being inside a snare drum.

So after five days of boat life, we were relieved to arrive in Belém. Another grand adventure under our belts!

On May 29th and 30th we went on a jungle adventure with Amazon Green Tours. Elso, our guide (the guy in the green shirt) was awesome. I can't believe how much we did in just two days. Here are some of the highlights:

Piranha fishing, caiman alligator wrestling, sloth and freshwater pink dolphin spotting, checking out the meeting of the waters and giant lily pads... Not to mention great food and excellent company. We lucked out. The two couples who were with us were hilarious. And they were Brazilian, which made me feel less like a dumb tourist paying for the Amazon experience.

Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of the ground lizards that live near the lodge. When it rains for more than three days straight, these lizards stay in their holes and EAT THEIR OWN TAILS to keep from starving. I don't like going out in the rain either, but this seems a bit extreme.

Nature is amazing.

I feel silly trying to find words that adequately describe this place. Rainbows everywhere. Butterflies that land on you and stay for the ride. Exotic birds. The cool mist and the warm sunshine. The sound and the fury... Okay. I give up. Go see it for yourself. You need a full day for the Argentinian side, and a half day for the Brazilian side. Go!

Sadly all we saw of Chile was Santiago and Valparaíso. Like Argentina, we need to return during ski season or in the summer. In Santiago we enjoyed visiting the city's hills, San Cristóbal and Santa Lucía, which were more like small mountains. Of course with the Andes in the background you wouldn't dare to call them mountains.

San Cristóbal has the iconic Virgin Mary statue on top at the Santuario de la Inmaculada Concepción. I initially mis-read the first word as "Sanitario" or the "Bathroom of the Immaculate Conception." Hilarity ensued.

In defense of my roll-y bag strategy, we saw a very together-looking guy on top of San Cristóbal with his roll-y bag. Backpackers who carry actual backpacks are few and far between. And all of them are younger than Fred and me.

Santa Lucía was topped with a castle or perhaps it's a fort... Cerro SC has the funicular, but cerro SL has an elevator.

We also really enjoyed the Museo de Bellas Artes. The highly regarded Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos was brutal but was an important glimpse into the human rights violations during the Pinochet years (1973-1990). 

The smog in Santiago is unreal.

The vegetarian food in Chile rules. Be sure to try "Porotos Granados" - beans with corn, pumpkin, basil and red pepper. Mmmmmmm.

On the 17th, we took a bus to the port town of Valparaíso for the day. What a cool little town with such interesting history! When we arrived at the bus station, I was convinced it was just another dirty, hectic port city. We found our way to the train and went a couple stops to the surf break that was supposed to be small but clean that day. No dice. Surf report said three stars and 2.5 feet. My report: FLAT. Not to mention that it's icky port surfing. You could get an infection by just looking at the water.

Since the surf didn't pan out, we took a 3pm walking tour with a group called Tour for Tips. Our guide, Erica, was fantastic. She showed us a unique, beautiful, historic city, and recommended a great restaurant where I could get a nice vegetarian Chilean dish. (Yes, more Porotos Granados!) We learned about Arturo Prat, the Battle of Iquique and its significance. We traveled up and down the hills, appreciating the architecture, street art and history of the place.

The street art in Valparaiso is inspired. Erica told us that even the graffiti taggers have respect for the street art murals. These guys will write all over your freshly painted walls, but won't touch tag the street art, no matter how banal the painting. 

Then once we were back in Santiago, we watched a movie set in Valparaíso called Aftershock. Seriously? If you've seen the movie you know what I mean. If you haven't, please don't watch it! I know they were going for shock value, and trying to be so grim it's "funny" but watching it may deter you from visiting this great little city. That would be a shame.

Things we've learned so far (South American edition)
or
Nine things I wish we knew before our trip to Argentina

1) Travelers with passports from the USA who are also going to Brazil: You CAN get a visa for Brazil in Buenos Aires, but it's only a 90 day visa and it's the same price as the 10 year. Get yours back in the states if you can. If not, this article will help you do it in one trip to the consulate, instead of four or five.

2) You don't have to pay the reciprocity fee for Chile if you cross the boarder by land or sea. Coming from Argentina, take the bus from Mendoza during the day. Apparently it's incredible. The flight over the Andes was also pretty great. Worthy of a window seat - and I'm an aisle seat girl all the way.

3) Bring USD to Argentina. Don't take money out of the ATMs. Many stores will give you a much better exchange rate if you pay in USD. You might also find someone to buy your USD for Pesos at a MUCH better rate (we found a gent offering nearly double the official exchange rate).

4) Prepaid mobile internet and phone service is cheap. Bring your smartphone and get a Argentinian sim card ("chip"). You need an unlocked GSM phone (AT&T or T-Mobile).

5) Ski season doesn't start until mid-June. Penguin season ends in March. May is a good time to visit Glacier Perito Moreno because it's almost the end of the season and you can get good discounts on lodging. However if we were to do it again we'd come in mid-September for skiing and then stay until mid-October for whale watching and penguins.

6) As mentioned in the post on Glacier Perito Moreno, don't bother bringing your hiking boots and other trekking gear if you are only trekking on the glacier - you can rent boots, gloves, ski pants and a jacket for about 130 pesos total.

7) Neighborhoods in Buenos Aires: For those of you who know NYC, Palermo is like Soho or the West Village, Recoleta is like the Upper East Side, San Telmo is like St Mark's Place, Centro, near Casa Rosada and 9 de Julio, is like Midtown. Personally, I liked staying in Palermo the best. 

8) The Subte and buses are a great way to get around - no need to rent a car. You can pay for both with a Sube card. You can buy a Sube card for 15 pesos at any kiosk with a 'Sube' sign. It does NOT come with any credit on it, you need to add money to it. We did this in the Subte station. When you get on the bus, you need to tell the driver where you are planning to get off so s/he can charge you the appropriate fare.  

9) Taxis are pretty cheap but traffic can be bad near Centro, day or night, as there always seems to be some kind of demonstration happening.

The bus drivers are on strike. So we ditched our plans to take a bus to Foz do Iguaçu, and instead hopped a flight to El Calafate to go glacier hunting.

El Calafate is in Patagonia on the edge of Lake Argentino. Really far south in Argentina near the Chilean border. It's a cute little mountain tourist town. Reminds me of Colorado ski towns like Breckenridge 25 years ago (before Starbucks and such). At zero degrees Celsius, this is probably the coldest place we will visit on our journey. Luckily, we are able to rent cold weather gear for our "Mini Trekking" adventure.

Some observations and tips for those of you considering a visit to El Calafate and the Perito Moreno glacier:

1) You can rent jackets, boots, pants and gloves in El Calafate for 130 pesos
2) It's not as cold there as you think it's going to be
3) Crampons - that's what the spikey ice climbing shoes are called
4) Exchange your dollars for pesos in Buenos Aires, where you can find people who will buy your dollars for almost twice the official rate. Not so in El Calafate

Happy glacier hunting to you!

On the glacier, we met super-cool Anna, who happens to be from our old 'hood in Brooklyn. Small world...