On Thursday afternoon (Feb. 2), despite several bumps in the road, Elise and I got on a bus to El Bolsón, Patagonian hippie paradise. Buenos Aires did everything in its power to prevent us from leaving – we almost couldn’t buy our bus tickets because we didn’t have the right documents, then because we didn’t have cash, then I overslept, we were late for the bus, couldn’t find the depot, and al fin, couldn’t even find the right bus.  We finally got on the bus seconds before it left, sweating and barely together. On a non-logistical level, I got pretty attached to some people in the city, making it emotionally difficult to get on that bus. Needless to say, that was the greatest roadblock.

The bus ride was 26 hours long, 26 hours of countryside and highway sunset and pampas sunrise and fog and darkness and police checkpoints and horrible American movies and dark blue lakes and more than questionable bus food and more than questionable doubts about where I was going and why I was leaving Buenos Aires. I reclined on the semi-cama and let my mind wander back to the city. Why am I not studying there for the semester? Why just two weeks? I wasn’t looking for anything in particular when I flew there, just an adventure and hopefully to meet some cool people, but I was irresponsible with my emotions. The recurring theme of my travels is meeting people that I don’t want to leave. I just end up wanting to move wherever I go, stay there indefinitely. People do that, right? I’m not sure how, but they do. Regardless, 16 days is never enough time. When will I learn this lesson? And now I can’t stop kicking myself (mentally).

But now I am in El Bolsón. Or rather, outside of El Bolsón, WWOOFing on a strawberry farm. It is beautiful here, surrounded by huge mountains and blue skies and lakes (Lago Puelo) with almost Caribbean blue water. The strawberries are plump and red and juicy and we can eat as many as we want. There are 2 dogs and 2 adorable kittens and lots of sheep and bees and horses and a bunny and there are blackberries and cherries and vegetables. The family is nice and the other WWOOFers are too – there are 5 others now but apparently there can be as many as 20 at a time on the farm. We work picking strawberries from 9-12 in the morning and from 6-9 in the evening. We sleep in tents and eat with the other WWOOFers at our campsite kitchen. And I hate to say it, but Juan was right (one of my amazing Couchsurfing hosts in Buenos Aires) – we are not much more than a couple pairs of hands. While the family is nice and generous, it also sort of feels like the mom’s not totally into having people here, aside from the free labor part. And while the company of the other WWOOFers is enjoyable, they’re not that fun or crazy. So after all that, it looks like we’ll spend a week here, tops. We’ll work during the week, do the cool hikes this weekend, and get the fuck out. To Bariloche! To Mendoza! To Santiago! To Valparaíso! I need distraction, I need adventure, I need to enjoy Patagonia, god dammit. So we’ll go.