Autumn in Buenos Aires, it's good to live it . . .

So here I am: a month, albeit a short one, to the day after I last posted from Buenos Aires, I post again, only with a four-week trip to Patagonia under my belt. My apologies to all who may have checked here during that month of suckiness, but rest assured that I'll try to make up for it from here on in with some hopefully decent, though at least more frequent posts. I've decided that I'll add a post for each of the major stages of my trip over the next few weeks, intermingled with contemporary updates from BsAs, flashback style.

Today was a pretty busy day: I woke up in the morning with a bag to retrieve from the bus station - my beloved mochila grande, about which I had never forgotten despite all the time that mochila pequeña and I were spending together - which gave me the opportunity to complete my last hike: about 1.5km from the bus station to my hostel, just a little elevation, and with virtually everything I brought on my back. Pretty tame given what I'm accustomed to. With my full complement of toiletries at my disposal, I took a much-needed shower, and then sized up the scattered collection of wiry hairs that had settled on my face, masquerading as a beard.

It's pretty clear now that I'm just not a beard guy, or a facial hair guy of any kind. Not because I lack the face for it - I think that I could potentially pull it off - or because I lack the will, as I'm game. The hairs just don't grow. So, on March 21, I took the clippers to the longest facial hair that I had ever let my body sprout:


Whatever that is, 'tis no beard. Patchy and thin it is, but a beard it is not. Sigh. An hour, some clippers, and a dull razor later, I'm looking more familiar, just with a more common poof of hair. I get a haircut next door, and I'm myself again. The soul of Patagonia Dave escapes my body to go wander in the Andes near El Chaltén. Perhaps we'll meet up again some day.

Next up, an apartment, and a life. I have a few leads on rooms in a shared apartment, which I've decided is best for the cost and for the benefit of living with people, and Spanish-speaking people at that. I could get my own studio for not a considerable amount more, but I just don't see the value. So I'll be checking out places today and tomorrow, and then I'll begin to think about how I'll be occupying the next three months, which I've decided to spend mostly in BsAs, travelling around occasionally. I hope to score a volounteer job with an agency of interest to me - one in economics, ideally - but I'll take what I can get, which may even be normal work, perhaps translation. I'd rather do something important to me and forego the pay though, as my savings will keep me more than afloat down here. That search begins tomorrow. Until then, it's a perfect day here - a perfect autumn day in Buenos Aires - and I'm off for a coffee on a terrace somewhere. It's good to live it indeed.