Sorry I haven´t posted in a bit, but I have been all over the place with limited access to Internet. I´ll start where I last left off, then post a couple stories about recent travels.

Last I left you I was on a 20-something hour bus ride to Iguazu Falls...

Finally morning rolls around after 10 hours of interrupted, bumpy sleep in the back of a very hot bus and I arrive in Iguazu.

While making a beeline for the Brazilian consulate I rehearse the most polite phrase I can think of to say to the person who will determine my future.

'Buenos dias Senor. Quisiera obtener una visa para ir Brasil. ¿Usted se puede ayudarme?'

The 'consulate' is a slanted wooden shack with two folding chairs sitting outside for people to wait. Very advanced.  Immediately, upon arriving, I repeat my carefully rehearsed phrase and pour out all my documents for the little, cute Brazilian man behind the counter.  All he asks for are for my passport photos and application. Nothing else. In fact, he shrugs off all my other papers. (If you remember correctly in Buenos Aires I needed photos, bank statements, flight information, etc.  The certainly are a little more lenient here!)

Next, he points to a huge sign behind him that reads '$468' in big block red letters. I fork over $468 Argentine pesos which equals about $140 American dollars and he gestures to me to come back in one hour.

´Yes! I will get it! He´s not telling me to come back tomorrow or Monday, but in one hour. It was worth it,' I think to myself.

Instead of risking it and leaving to find a place to stay in the interim, I decide to just sit and wait. There are a couple handsome LA firefighters waiting as well. What could it hurt? 

I begin to chat with the firefighters and learn that they were told theirs would be ready in two hours. Great, another positive sign. Other people are getting Visas in one day. The travel boards didn´t lie! 

To pass the time we chat about what it is really like to be a firefighter and go through the usual 'where have you been and where are you going questions'. (In retrospect, this conversation I had with the firefighters and a motorcycle traveler helped guide me through my adventures in Patagonia.   They encouraged me to visit places I had no intention of going and dissuaded me from going others where I thought of going. Thank you firefighters and random man wherever you are!  You gave great advice!)

Mid-way through my Firefighting 101 course, I notice the cute little Brazilians chatting, leaving and saying something is broken (reminder -- they are speaking in Portuguese, so this is merely a guess). Oh no! I thought their 'official' typewriter is broken. They will use that as the excuse to not issue the Visas.

Two hours comes and goes.

Hour three roles around and a different paper pusher comes by with a little envelope. More chatting with each other, but no Visas yet.

A few moments (probably about 15 minutes, but in Northern Argentina 15 minutes is equal to a couple US moments) later the cute Brazilian starts reading out names and handing out passports with valid Visas inside. The firefighters get theirs. Random motorcycle man gets his. Finally he yells, 'Alicia'.  I stand up and he gives me a smile while he handing me my passport, receipt and my change. 

I flip open my passport to see for what I endured a hot 20-hour bus ride, tons of cash, changed plane tickets and a lot of stress. It is a measly piece of paper glued into my passport with my name, passport number and visa expiration date typed on it. 

Whatever. I got it and I am going to Brazil!

Yeah so I admit it. I didn't know I needed a Visa to go to Brazil. I've never had any issues about getting into other countries in the past, so why now? Reciprocity. We treat the Brazilians like shit and charge them a ton when they try to come to the States, so they give us the runaround when we want to visit their country.

Panic time. My luck had been so great! Rafting, moto rides, finding gas when you least expected it, cool people.  My good luck was coming to an end.

You may be wondering --  Did I make it to Brazil without getting a Visa before leaving the States?  Ahhh,  you see young grasshopper friend, your friend Alicia has ways. Many many ways.  Let me tell the way...

So last Wednesday night, I'm in Cordoba about to get on a 10 hour (overnight) bus ride to Buenos Aires to then catch a flight to Rio the next day for Carnival. I'm checking out Wikipedia, learning some essential Portuguese phrases (Obrigado, chopp, etc), when I happen to notice the section on Visas. I quickly skim over it, not paying too much attention. I take a double take... Wait. American's need a Visa? What?!

Quickly i reviewed every Web site that might have information about this glitch in my perfect little plan. They ALL say the same thing.  Americans need a Visa PRIOR to entering Brazil. Translation: you cannot just pay for a Visa at the airport.

Shit. Crap. Oh no! How could I not think of this? Stupid head. Moron. Pompous American! IDIOT!

I think I called myself every bad name not worthy of this blog. I'll stop now.

Upon further research, it seemed like I might be able to get a Visa in Buenos Aires in 24 hours.  No problem, just shift my flight by a day. I could do it.  Maybe a small fee would be incurred, but it was worth it. 

Next morning, (post a 10 hour bumpy bus ride --not in a Super Cama bus seat, just a Cama. You may ask what the difference is between a Super Cama and Cama. A Super Cama bus seat almost reclines 180 degrees with something to prop your feet up. A Cama only reclines to about to 160 degrees, no foot raiser-upper), I run to the Brazilian embassy after printing out all the necessary documents.

I'm in line with several other Australians and Americans hoping for the same.  I get up to the window. The dude is an ugly, short, middle-aged Brazilian that refuses to smile. I show him all my papers and my passport sized photos (which were a pain in the ass to get by the way).

He looks through my documents -- I'm missing my bank statements. No problem, i could print that out. Before leaving to do this I ask him how long it would take to issue the Visa.

"Three days," he grumpily replied.

"Three days!?"

"Three days. Tuesday will be done."

"Is there anyway I can get it faster?"

"No. Three days. Tuesday."

"Nothing I can do?"

At this point, he looked at me straight in the eye, like my Mom did when she was pissed and said, "NO. N-O."  He seriously spelled out the word 'no' to me. N-O.

Shit. Crap. Idiot. Pompous American. Moron. Why didn't I research this earlier!? Damn. At this point I leave the window and out of desperation I asked the security guard if three days is really how long it takes.  He confirmed what the ugly guy in the window said. Yes, it takes three days.  But, he did tell me that in Iguazu they can issue it in ONE day.

I thanked him and was on my way. He wasn't much help. Iguazu is a 20 hour bus ride away. How the hell could I get there and get it in time!?

I go to the closest Locutorio (where they have Internet). I stew about my dilemma. What should I do?  Fernando expects me there tonight. I already have a $200 ticket to the biggest parade in Rio. I have a friend meeting me there!  DAMN!  And, I don't want to be in Buenos Aires now! I want to be in RIO! Plus, I've already poured a shit-ton of money to get to Rio! (Imagine me stomping my feet in the middle of the Internet cafe. Okay, so I didn't actually stomp my feet, but i felt like it.)

At this point I started calculating if I did go to Iguazu, could I even do it? A little background on Iguazu Falls.  Iguazu falls is an amazing natural wonder on the border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. The waterfalls are bigger than Victoria Falls and Niagara Falls combined. Brazil is a LOT more lenient on giving out Visas in Iguazu so people can visit both the Argentine and Brazilian side of the falls (they want their cut of the tourists' money too). I see that there is indeed a flight from Iguazu to Rio (another expense, but I could do it).

It is about 11 a.m. If I spend the next couple hours figuring out logistics (changing airline tickets, buying new ones, calling Fernando, printing out bank statements, buying a bus ticket, etc) I could make it back to the train station by 1 p.m., be on the next bus to Iguazu and arrive in the morning when the consulate opens.  It is possible. I sit stewing. 

I call Fernando. He says it would be worth it.  Game-time decision. Do i risk wasting 20 hours on a bus and tons of extra cash I had no intention of spending to possibly get a Visa in Iguazu so I can fly to Rio the following day???

I know y´all have been waiting anxiously to read about the meal at ´La Cabrera´ (see blog post # 2). Well, I´ve  finally had a few moments to type up our thoughts... Was it worth the wait? Was the carne all we expected it to be? See below!

 While deciding what to eat,
(which was honestly quite a feat),

we snacked on ricotta con pimentón dulce
and sipped from a 2005 Trapiche.

When a selection of sweetbreads was made,
the pitt-er-patter of Amy´s heart was slow to fade.

But then cute Gustavo brought that dish
Oh, how yummy! It was just our wish.

The ´breads came fresh from the grill,
with sauces galore, we got our fill.

Marinated artichokes and aubergine we ate sans regret.
Plus a taste of a ham and cheese omelet.

Zucchini offset by a spicy pepper flair.
Beets and quail eggs prove to be quite a pair.

The chimichurri list could go on, but i won´t carry-on
Lest you begin to tire and yawn.

Next up was to be a Rib-eye.
At first glance we gave a hefty sigh.

A tasty piece of meat that couldn´t be beat
but man, we were so full, we rolled down the street!

In conclusion, a meal not to miss, 
but we weren´t tempted to give the chef a kiss.

Our meal at La Vinera in San Telmo still ranks supreme
I´ll take you there, and you´ll just beam! 

The past week (and some change), I've been traveling via motorcycle with Gian Marco -- a crazy Peruvian who has a lot of spirit, is scrappy and has the power of persuasion. We left southern Chile (Futaleufu) mid-January and made it to Cordoba, Argentina late last night.  Here's a quick little ditty about the first day's ride.  It isn't anything special -- but you get the gist of the day!

So far the moto ride s'been swell
Crusing the calles, my thighs hurt like hell.

We started in Futa
Where I ditched half my loot-a

South we were forced to go,
cause the nearest boarder said, "No!"

In Palena they were nice and let us through,
without any pleadings, problems, not even a coup.

Once in Argentina, north we went
as I need to be in Rio before Lent!

On this bumpy moto drive,
colors contrast with every dip and dive.

Green valleys, turquoise rivers,
rust-colored hills, oh, i just got the shivers!

Mountain peaks standing alone
showing off every crevice and stone.

Transparent lakes 'round each bend
sometimes a small town, where a letter you could send

Arriving in Bolson a Brewery was a lure
Gian Marco asked for a beer, I said sure!

The next stretch you could not believe
A vibrant moon a top peaks; no threat to leave

A stop we were forced to make-
a moon like this not even Hollywood could fake.

We continued on, Bariloche the next stop
To a friend's house where we could flop...

That's it for now.  More stories to come!

Unfortunately i don´t have much time to rhyme. So instead a boring blog post. After days of late night cocktails and an 18 hour bus ride, Amy and I made it to Bariloche, the jumping off point for Patagonia.  

Fortunately we are lucky ladies and were able to tag along on a 8 day rafting trip in Southern Chile on the Futaleufu river.  I can´t say enough about this place. Imagine a place where the river is crystal clear, but turquoise in color. Shooting mountains peaks surround you with a dusting of snow from the storm from the night before.  To warm up after a long day in the river you hop in the sauna to dry off, then run into the hot tub with clear views of the mountains and river. You probably have a beer or cocktail in hand. I did!  A shout out to BioBio Expeditions who organize this trip. If you have any intention of ever going rafting in Chile or anywhere in the world for that matter, go with these guys.

Spectacular. Next adventure. A motorcycle ride with a Peruvian river guide. Maybe north, maybe south. I´ll keep you posted.  

These blog posts might not come in chronological order. I need to find time to tell you about the 18 hour bus ride. It sounds horrible, but actually it was quite nice. Except the wine they served us looked and tasted a little like what I imagine urine would taste like...