Travelogue: Pause

After 7 months in Latin America, I am back home in the States. I will be returning to Argentina at the end of October to continue working on organic farms in Patagonia and explore more of the continent, but the sojourn is at a temporary end. My trip back ended, fittingly, with one last adventure as I was sequestered at Miami immigration due to my appearance, which no longer matches any of my IDs  I don't think I look that suspicious, but judge for yourself after the jump.

I sat in a back room and watched for 45 minutes as a stone-faced woman either a) searched Big Brother's database, or b) played an intense game of minesweeper. She ultimately sent me along with no explanation and a "welcome back," but I have a feeling I might be on a list now.

In a temporary "looking back" mode, I would like to share a few interesting characters from the trip that did not make it into my past accounts.

Cuban-American from Miami who stayed in bed all day at the hostel in Buenos Aires, only getting up to mix Sambucca drinks. He told me that, after a bout with lymphoma, he developed narcolepsy. Something to do with the drugs he takes to stay alert requires a healthy and consistent dose of alcohol, hence the Sambucca. His bed was surrounded by at least three empty bottles and I found more in the bag lockers. When he did go out, he went out in fantastically flamboyant suits with fitted smoking jackets that went down to the knee. One morning he offered me a drink at 8:30 AM, saying, "it's just like a cordial." In our first conversation, he asserted that all Argentines are out to scam him and that they generally lack honor, primary piece of evidence being an escapade to a "titty bar" that cost him over $200.

Young German backpacker in Mexico who took two showers every morning, one with water, and one with an entire bottle of AXE body spray right by my bed. His voice was a mix between Lisa Simpson, Steve Urkel, and Chewbacca from Star Wars. I cannot forget him because he made off with an electric adaptor I lent him.

Guy renting an apartment next door in Catamarca. The first time I met him he invited me over for lunch and we had a great conversation--he was really interested in all things about the U.S. He offered to take me to the bus station when I left, in the car tells me, out of nowhere, that he had wanted to invite me for a threesome with his mistress but couldn't find me. After telling me way too much about their sexual history, he capped it all off by showing me his mobile phone photo gallery of his escapades, including one of his naked mistress serving as a coke-snorting table. I was happy to get out of that car.

A certain host of mine from a certain piece of land in Chile who said things such as "you can't trust latin people." He claimed to have 360 degree "awareness" that is unattainable for the regular human being. Had a manic obsession with japanese telephone cards and needlenose pliers. So insecure that once, when I laughed and told him his headlamp was on strobe mode, he claimed that he did it on purpose to save batteries. For days after this encounter, any time I would run into him with the headlamp on regular mode he would quickly change it to the seizure-inducing strobe to save face.

The son of a high ranking Dominican politico, who told me he lived for a year in an apartment in New York's West Village, sharing the place with the 10-15 kilos of cocaine stashed under his bed. Every so often a man dressed in surgical scrubs would come to pick it up, transport it in his backpack to New Jersey, and sell it to a brigade of Puerto Rican and Dominican distributors whose crackhouse happened to be next to a hospital. "I didn't ask questions because the apartment was a great deal." He also claimed to have shot a man after witnessing him berate his girlfriend in a cafe.

An American guy traveling in Mexico who had recently had a mercator projection of the world tattooed on his back, the idea being to color in the countries he visits.

The old Argentine woman, descended of Scottish immigrants, who invited me in for tea when I went to suss out a potential house-sitting arrangement. She hummed along absentmindedly making tea and bread, every now and then looking up vacantly to say, "we used to smoke grass all the time...I'm a hippie!...hahahahaha!" At one point she looked at me seriously and said, introspectively, "what is a hippie?"

A young guy from Paraguay working as a traveling vendor who had dedicated his life to joining the Knights Templar. I was unable to confirm that he was anything but serious.