What I like about this trip is that...

Every day is different. Every day is an opportunity to learn and to expand one’s horizons, to stretch limits as though they were malleable sticky sugary gummy worms. Every day is a brand new adventure.

The descent into San Martin de los Andes is a wicked 20km cruising downhill. I zoomed past humble farms bordering the lake. I raced the clouds around the last corner before dropping into the city. The wind was everywhere and it whipped me around as though it had nothing better to do.

A two hour search to find a free place to sleep ultimately landed me grumpily pushing Tioca through the darkened streets towards “Bike Hostel.” On that walk, I tried really hard to convince myself that it was ok to stay at a hostel. You see, I’ve spent the last year avoiding hostels. I have a nose-in-the-air attitude about them. I used to love them, but now I detest them and will do almost anything to avoid them. Since I started becoming friendly with my tent and discovering CouchSurfing, I view them as a comfy bubble shielding me from actually getting to know a place.

But that night I had exhausted all of my options and my patience, I was tired, it was windy, and I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to shell out AR$50 for a bed. Everything happens for a reason, I told myself. Try to make the best out of it. Perhaps it won’t be as bad as you think. And I couldn’t have been more correct.

I pushed Tioca through the gate and announced our arrival. Maxi, the very energetic, does a million things at one time, fanatical about bikes and snow boards, came to the door, ushered me in, took one look at my bike and immediately started naming the parts he would tinker with. Because it’s low season there were only three or four other people staying in the hostel. Flor, the Rosalina graphic designer, and I hit it off. Super sweet girl enthusiastic about life. We had many awesome conversations and shared dinner and beer on my second night. She also told me she would rigorously follow my blog… Hi Flor!

Sergio, the Argentine cyclist who has been on the road for 8 (EIGHT) years, said very little to any of us, but his few words had perhaps the most impact on my ever evolving trip. On that first night he told a story: He was on the road heading towards Bariloche. 20 km from the city he found a beach. With only two soup packets, he stayed for two days on that beach.

That’s the whole story, but it left me with a lot to think about. It really drove home the idea that cycling is more about the journey (and the mini adventures that we have along the way) than the destination. For example, when I am within 20km of a city, I go go go so I can get there. I still think about ARRIVING, about GETTING THERE. And I’d like to change that. I would like to change my philosophy of traveling. I would like to slow down, be more flexible, and enjoy the fresh air of adventure.

Mikel, the hitchhiking Vasco, inspired me to let go of structure and preparation and just go with the flow of life. He also reintroduced me to fishing. Not fishing for sport, but rather fishing for eating and nourishing. It was then that I developed an uncontrollable urge to learn to fish.

Maxi gave Tioca a facelift. He tightened this. He replaced that. He added. He subtracted. He even multiplied and divided. His bicycle workshop was a wonderful mess of spare parts, random tools, and raw energy. And Tioca emerged as radiant as ever!

Yes, San Martin de los Andes changed it all.

And on top of it all: I had an emotional crisis. I washed some clothes. I cooked in a glorious kitchen. I confirmed my synchronization with the moon. I took a deep breath. And then I left.