A Hard Day's Travel

A Story

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Traveling is not always as romantic as it seems.

More often than not, it is a series of problem solving, an exercise in getting yourself where you need to or want to be. On this day, despite ending up here at the Perito Moreno Glacier, the journey there was not as simple as this photograph might suggest. To make a long story slightly shorter, here is the play by play of the 24 hours surrounding this photograph, an example of a hard days travel:

The previous evening

I realized I was missing my driver’s license. It wasn’t in my wallet because it was still at Erratic Rock in Puerto Natales, a gear rental place from which I had rented a sleeping bag for the duration of the W Trek in Torres Del Paine National Park. It was there because I had been chatting with the dude at the counter about what winter was like this far south in the world.

I texted my lovely Swiss friend with fingers crossed that she was still at the hostel we had shared, The Singing Lamb, and had not yet journeyed farther south to Tierra Del Fuego. Not only was she still there and kindly retrieved my license, but she went above and beyond (the kindness of strangers!) by finding my license a ticket to El Calafate. She had just met a couple heading there the next morning and they were happy to deliver it to me. I would meet them the following evening after arriving back from seeing the Perito Moreno Glacier.

After spending the evening dealing with this, I decided to postpone heading out to get the cash. I needed Argentinian Pesos to pay the entrance fee of the National Park I was set to visit the next day.

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The next morning

I woke up an hour early to allow myself enough time to visit the ATM before heading to the bus terminal to catch the bus to the national park.

The ATM was empty.

I checked the map for another, it was only a few blocks away but of course in the opposite direction of the bus terminal. My cheeks were starting to feel a little warm as I rushed off.

The second ATM was out of order, too.

Slightly panicked I turned around and power walked to the bus station hoping for a cash exchange. Sure enough there was one, but it opened at 11am. It was 8:40am. I turned around and walked straight to the woman who had sold me my bus ticket to the national park the day before. With equal shame and determination, my voice reaching its higher, sweeter, favor asking octaves, I asked in my best Spanish, can you help me?

Perhaps she could run my credit card and give me Argentine Pesos in cash, of course she could add a service charge since the ATMs charged $10 if not more with every foreign transaction. Unaffected by the sweet octaves, as if they had no translated, she replied with a firm “No”.

Perhaps, she had personal Argentine Pesos that she was willing to exchange with my Chilean Pesos, with interest of course. She did not bother to even reply this time, her mood as edgy as her pixie cut.

“…and if you don’t have money for the national park entrance fee I will not let you on the bus

I’ll figure it out! Thank you so much for your help, bye!

I ran to the bus, up the stairs and plopped out of breath into the first seat, right behind the driver’s. I looked out the window, thinking. Then I looked around the bus. There were only four others on the bus, two spread out in the back, and two right next to me in the other front seat. They were European, around my age, they were my best bet.

I took a deep breath, reminded myself that if a fellow traveler asked me for help I would help her.

“Hi, My name is Lily…”

I explained that both the ATMs were out of order, that I had arrived in Argentina from Chile only yesterday and had Chilean Pesos, but not Argentine Pesos. We could trade if they were heading south to Chile, or we could all go to the bank after our day’s excursion to the Perito Moreno Glacier and I would pay them right back. One of the women kindly said, “I have enough to loan you the fee”.

“Oh thank you!”

I’m not sure what I was more thankful for, this kind stranger’s generosity or my courage.

I spent the rest of the day with Olivia and Anna, from Holland. Not just because I owed them money and felt obligated to stay close by, but they were lovely and I was so grateful to share the Perito Moreno Glacier with company. After three hours out in the cold and wind, viewing the glacier from every angle offered by the boardwalk, we spent the final hour in the oddly fancy visitors’ cafe. They bought we a walnut brownie with a hot coffee and we traded travel tales.

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That evening

On the way back from the National Park I explained to the bus driver that we needed to get off the bus at the bank in town, instead of riding through town to the bus terminal in the outskirts. He agreed sincerely.

I needed to fit a lot into the next hour.

I was heading to El Chaltén that evening, the next town on the Gringo Trail, and I had just one hour between arriving back from visiting the glacier to the departure of the bus to El Chaltén. In that hour I needed: to pay Olivia back, then I needed to find the couple carrying my drivers license at their hostel, next I would run by the hostel I had stayed at to collect my bags and then power walk to the bus terminal for the second time to hopefully catch my pre-paid bus out of town.

I made that bus with debt paid, license collected, belongings in hand, and five minutes to spare.

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I remember posting this photograph of me on Instagram and receiving a message from a favorite college friend about how envious she was of my travels. I replied with a “…let me tell you about the day I’ve had.

Now it wasn’t a day where anything went terribly wrong or dangerously wrong, but it was a difficult day’s travel. It was problem solving, it was asking for help, it was asking for money from strangers. It was uncomfortable and nothing went smoothly.

But at the end of the day, sitting on the bus to El Chaltén I felt accomplished. This was not a case of things working out or getting lucky, though I have had countless experiences with both these forces. No, this was a case of me figuring it out, of using my voice. It was a tough day’s travel, but it was also a lesson that has stayed with me since.

The moral here is: traveling isn’t always peachy but when its not easy it’s transformative, a teacher.

 

By Lily

Lily AngellComment