A Desolate Drive

On our fourth and final full day in Ushuaia (minus Anna and Casey, who left the day before), we five decided to rent a car and head northward into the main part of Tierra del Fuego with the city of Rio Grande being our target. The overused platitude ended up being correct, however, when the journey proved better than the destination.

Already a strong sense of foreboding came the night before when, just after Hertz employee Sergio ran my card, it began pelting snow outside in the 6pm darkness - our first precipitation we saw in Ushuaia. We had been feeling pretty good about the roads before then, but we heard the mountain passes can get icy and the snow certainly doesn't help. But it was a done deal. Sergio showed us that our manual Chevy Spirit had little metal studs in its winter tires and we then drove it to our hostel.

The Brazilians staying at our hostel were all eating dinner in the loft kitchen upstairs right after we had dinner. Several nights before they had come off as quite rude, hardly talking to us but hiding stifled laughs every time we'd walk by and staring endlessly. I wish I had caught some of the rapid and muffled Portuguese. But as they were beginning dinner and I was washing dishes this night, one member of the group got up to take a photo of the entire group. I leaned over to him and said 'Eu posso tirar uma foto se você quiser…' or 'I can take a photo if you want…' He looked at me startled and incredulously asked (in Portuguese) 'You can speak Portuguese'? To which I responded 'It's the truth…'.

'Wait, that means you heard everything we said last night?'

'That's the truth as well!'

They all laughed, and in the end I feel that we got even with them, having them on edge thinking we understood them the whole time and hopefully making them feel quite awkward about their rudeness. Later on we befriended several of them and they turned out to be quite well-meaning and friendly once our superficial differences were smoothed over. But every learner of a foreign language dreams of that moment that they can turn around to someone who's talking about them in a different language behind their back and say 'Actually, I can speak (insert language here).' This was my first such moment, and it was so incredibly triumphant.

The morning of the drive, we awoke before dawn (i.e. before 10am), breakfasted, and we were off after scraping a layer of rime off the Spirit. The snow had stopped shortly after it started, thankfully. We watched the temperature drop from 3C to -3C over the course of the next hour as we climbed up to Garibaldi Pass. Conditions were foggy, roads were icy, and knuckles were white, but James guided the boaty rental expertly and we were through. On our way down past Lago Escondido and Lago Fagnano we broke beneath the clouds and saw the stark view ahead of us - barren grassland, rocky outcroppings, and a few windswept trees. If our view had been unobstructed by clouds the view just across the pass would have been much more precipitous and terrifying, as shown in the summertime picture below. But those guardrails are strong - on our way back, we saw a car coming toward us a ways ahead lose control around a turn and barrel into a guardrail, miraculously bouncing right off and even ending in a direction facing the way it had been going. We slowed down as we approached and asked if he was alright as he was getting out of his car, which he responded to with a smile and with a "be careful, the roads are icy!" shortly before releasing a wail at his surprisingly minimal rear bumper damage. Hospitality comes first to the Argentines.

We drove through the Fuegian plains for another hour, the former lands of the native Ona Indians (Selk'nam). Theirs was a hunting culture, and we began seeing their former primary prey dotting the roadside and landscape - llama-like creatures known as guanaco. It wasn't long before carmates were referring to them as guano and Guantanamo in the same way that they had called the coatis 'coitus' earlier in our trip in Puerto Iguazu, Argentina. The road suddenly emerged atop a bluff and to our right was the chilling and endless Southern Atlantic Ocean, hazardous with rocks and beach crusted with ice and grainy sand. An incredibly stark landscape to behold. Past Lucas Bridges's Viamonte Estate established in the 1900's we began to see more cattle, horses, and sheep, then buildings, until we had reached the right-angled street grid of Rio Grande.

Rio Grande is an industrial city and is far from picturesque. Our hostel desk hosts, upon being told we were heading up there for the day, could only scrunch their faces and ask "why?" so I suppose we were somewhat expecting this. We passed row after row of telephone pole, light pole, electric pole, and planned houses as we entered the city. It was nearing 1pm, and Argentina was playing Nigeria! Restaurant choices were slim so we chose the first viable option we saw, an events center on a side road. Despite the place being almost empty yet set up for a banquet, we sat down at a table near the three other customers in the room and fixed our attention on the small TV mounted to a pillar nearby. A cheap lunch of stew, bread, Tang, and Jello got us through the first half, and it was fun celebrating an Argentina goal with this ragged crew. At halftime, however, our waiter told us that if we wanted to get back to Ushuaia before darkness we ought to leave stat. Not wanting to try the icy roads and pass again in the dark, we unfortunately had to leave at halftime. Car horns were honking on our way out of the city as Argentina scored two more goals.

Jeff driving now, the three hours back were even more beautiful on the return in the dimming light, and we even got a rare five minutes of sunshine as we rounded the desolate and mysterious Lago Fagnano. The pass was better on the return, although shortly after summiting is when we saw the car nearly plummet off the side of the road. We drove past Cerro Castor, the world's southernmost ski resort which was sadly not opening until the day after we left. They were making snow like crazy. We also drove past the place we had dog-sledded and snowshoed the day before.

Back into Ushuaia we made our own meal, packed a bit, played hearts, and then Jeff and I stayed up until 5:30am singing and talking with Brazilians, Uruguayans, and Argentinians in the common room of our hostel. They sure love their Rihanna and Adele - much lyric-searching was done. We got the chance to try Fernet, an apparently hugely popular liquor in Argentina. Reminded me of spiced Jagermeister. 

The morning of our flight back, we ducked over to the End of the World Museum to get our last bit of Ushuaia cultural emersion. Haunting and sad, overall, seeing how quickly a culture up and vanished due to the ignorance of Europeans. The last native-speaking and pureblood Yahgan is 90 years old and living on Navarin Island. The last Ona died in the 70's, I believe.

Our flights went:

Ushuaia -> Buenos Aires (3.5 hours, two-aisled plane)

3.5 hour layover

Buenos Aires -> Houston (10.5 hours, United two-aisled plane, no drinks despite international :/ )

3.5 hour layover (customs)

Jeff flew to Denver, Austin flew to Chicago, James, Lauren, and I flew…

Houston -> Dallas (1 hour, 50 seat puddle-jumper)

9 hour layover (picked up by our friend Keeley and went into the city for a bit)

Dallas -> Denver (2 hours)

Our friends Gus and Laura picked us up, dropped us off in Fort Collins, and I don't think I've slept that hard in a while. But that still didn't stop us from waking up at 7am: sunrise in Ushuaia (where it was 10am, three hours ahead), but the sun already up for an hour and a half in Colorado.

We went to the Fort Collins farmer's market and immediately ran into a man with a FIFA World Cup t-shirt and then a woman from Belo Horizonte selling Brazilian sweet rolls. Cue the Portuguese and vivid nostalgia. We already can't wait to return, and would gladly live there some day if given the opportunity. Saudade - look it up.

WORLD CUP GAME DAY

Finally getting around to writing about our unanimously agreed upon favorite event of the trip (which means a lot since we are currently nearing our final day in Ushuaia, Argentina, our last stop). Friday, June 13, 2014 was a day we knew would be special from the moment we randomly decided to enter the lottery for World Cup tickets back on August 15, 2013. We chose Salvador after a few of us heard that it was a beautiful city, doing no research and even later finding out that it is the supposed murder capital of Brazil. The city turned out to be 100 times more intriguing and beautiful (and safe, thankfully) than we were expecting, and Dona Sorte smiled down upon us when we drew the Spain/Netherlands game (the last Cup´s final, which Spain won) as our sole match of the trip.
We woke up and scattered a bit, grabbing potable water at the hipermercado across the street and also continental breakfast at our hotel with disgustingly hiked rates. We then headed over to the nearest mall at 10am where we were told that the free FIFA shuttle to the stadium started at noon. No biggie. Asked for directions and walked twenty minutes to a bus stop that took us back to the place where we asked for directions to the bus stop. But luckily, the bus then continued on to Pelourinho - Salvador´s colonial district with old painted buildings, incredible street food, street capoeira fighters (I got coerced into tambourining with the accompanists), and the impressive Elevator Lacerda with straight cliff views to the port.

The city was abuzz, and the Spain red and yellow was out in force. But the Spanish population paled in comparison to the Dutch contingent. Rounding the corner northeast out of the Old City (after turning right too early and stumbling into an unmarked police blockade that we were scolded for crossing), we realized we were walking with the flow of more and more orange-clad Dutchies (their unofficial color) until we suddenly emerged into a sea of orange in a plaza, live Dutch music blaring from a huge stage, orange Dumb and Dumber suits, orange mermaids, orange stilt-walkers, the orange buses that drove/ferried from the Netherlands, orange orange orange orange. From that moment on, we were in it to win it with the Dutch... even if it meant telling the Spaniards that we decided to ultimately root against them. In Spanish.

Faces painted orange, orange jerseys purchased, orange beers in hand, we wandered to Fonte Nova Arena, Salvador´s new stadium completed last year for their two national teams. The scene was truly incredible. The Dutchies dominated the crowd but the Spaniards still pulled their weight, wearing horse suits, holding gigantic World Cup trophy replicas, matadoring, ole-ing, etc. Entering the stadium from the south goal side, our first vista of the field was breath-taking. It was real that we were finally THERE.

There were ten of us, and due to the lottery system the biggest group of us could only be four sitting together. The tickets of myself, James, Anna, and Austin were for the fifth row, the section just right of center (truly, truly real at this point getting to our seats) and those of Lauren, Jeff, Casey, and Evan were in row R two over from center on the other side, so sadly we had to split up. Chris and Mary, Austin´s coworker and friend, had upper deck seats but came with us to our seats before the game started and ended up sitting together in a miraculously empty front row seat. Truly, all views were great and our blood was rushing with the excitement of the spectacle and the buzz of the scenario, possible revenge for the Netherlands after their loss to Spain in 2010.
The first half was a nail-biter, with Spain getting an easy goal on an early free kick. Shortly before the end of the first half, though, Robin van Persie had the most amazing header I have ever seen, and one that he later claimed was his best goal ever. Electrifying. It made me want to truly follow soccer from this moment on. A later search on Google turned up the ESPN photo below, which we made it into! Also a picture from Anna´s disgustingly high-megapixel camera of the four on the other side dancing.

An onslaught of dexterous Netherlands goals followed in the second half, and the Dutchies ultimately left the game in a delirium, as did we. The woman in front of me texted her friends that she was partying with the Dutchies behind her and didn´t understand a word of what we were saying (clearly). Many of the Brazilians who attended the game asked to take photos with us too, thinking we were Dutch, which is how we got the picture below.

We then made our way back to Dutch Village West, where we got Salvador street food - acarajé, chicken skewers, these weird pillowy empanada things, and cheese fried in person over a little urn of embers - just as the heavens opened up and a tropical rain poured down upon the city. Wet but happy, we eventually made our way back to our hotel via van taxi, but not before witnessing a street mugging in person. This little kid ran down the street with an older Spanish man´s wallet or camera, the man screaming like all hell behind him. The kid was apprehended, surprisingly, and another item on our bucket list was checked off.
If you know the Fort Collins contingent of this group well enough, you will know that it´s not out of the question that even the best day of our lives could end with a lively round of the card game Mafia, which is exactly what we did until we were too tired to deny the accusations, faces painted, teeth red with wine (Evan), still slightly damp, and truly feeling on top of the world, to be with the world in this corner of the world at this specific time.
WORLD CUP BABY!!!

Taco-Burrito

Casey and Austin here.. Doing our homework since we were put in time-out by dad (Gavin). Recapping now about our time in the Argentina side of Iguazu - specifically the falls.

When we were in the Brazil side of the falls, we had the pleasure of staying in one of the best hostels in the city named none other than ¨Favella Chic¨ aka Ghetto Fab. When we walked over the river and through the border to Argentina, we stayed in Garden Stone hostel which later became a dog rescue shelter. While there for two nights, we met a couple from The Netherlands (Jeff told them Anna hated The Netherlands, she later said that was a lie) who were very fun but reluctant to exchange email addresses despite giving them free wine. I think the conversation went something like: ¨It was great meeting you, we should exchange email addresses.¨ ¨Good night.¨ They introduced us, however, to a new game called ¨Jungle Speed¨which Lauren quickly became queen of the jungle.

On day two, we visited the Argentinian side of the falls which was our first look.  On the Brazil side our time was consumed with traveling to Iguazu, missing our bus stop and walking around the city aimlessly looking for our ¨hostel¨. In one word the falls were astonishing, powerful, wet, mosquito filled and brown (sorry, inside joke). Austin was the only one who fell going down a wet set of stairs but seriously, who makes metal stairs amongst a water fall? After we completed the walk through of the falls, we were greeted with the ferocious ¨Coati¨aka the Argentinian raccoon. They weren´t really ferocious at all, just long claws and sharp teeth lookin for some damn food.

Earlier we mentioned that our hostel turned into a dog rescue shelter and here is the story why. For whatever reason (besides petting and handing out food) our group attracts these K-9 followers. We had the pleasure of meeting five dogs in Iguazu that followed us around for hours, including while we sat outside to watch the Brazil-Mexico game. The main group we named: Taco, Burrito, Lydia, Kane, and Carne, but there were some groupies like Little Foot that only had three legs. Taco was definitely the crowd favorite and even scored a free night stay at the Garden Stone hostel. Austin didn´t want to pet taco with his hands, so he used a towel at the hostel. After looking at the towel and seeing the dirt that came off of taco, Austin was told that towel belonged to James and he had yet to shower. Whoops.

Iguazu falls treated us well but alas it was time to head to real civilization, a place where we felt more at home- Buenos Aires. It all started with figuring out how we were going to get 9 people into two-two person rooms at the Marriott Plaza Hotel. Thankfully the front desk agents were accommodating and helpful (not) but after some negotiating, we got it all figured out. Joke was on them!

There is something called the ¨blue rate¨ which many of us used to exchange US dollars for pesos in Buenos Aires. This is an unofficial exchange that pays more than banks. For example, we were able to exchange a $100 US bill with an exchange rate of 11.6, instead of 8. Although the task itself is shady (people yelling ¨cambio, cambio¨ on the side of the road to attract customers), those who brought US dollars were glad to accept the far better exchange rate. No ATM fees either!

The feel to Buenos is that of say New York city with some Paris and Barcelona in the mix. The girls- excited for wine and dancing. The boys- still enthused with the idea of walking the streets beer/wine in hand (ok, the girls participated as well). Buenos is beautiful yet tricky to accomplish  in only 3 days. Nightlife does not start till at least 10 pm meaning our late nights cut into our sightseeing (for some of us at least). We still managed to get a great feel for the city and what it had to offer leaving us all with the same thoughts- we wish to return and I need a larger pant size.

Picture of our adopted dog Taco:

The group at the intersection of Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay. 

Blue and White

I'm in love. Buenos Aires is a beautiful gem of a city. I can't stop daydreaming about moving here. Last night we had a fancy dinner complemented by an enchanting two-hour-long tango performance. Oh and we're now tango experts ourselves, having received official certificates after our one hour lessons. From massive graveyards adorned with haunting crypts, quaint, brightly-painted blocks filled with markets in Boca, and dancing with locals in tiny nooks in Palermo, this city was a big win for os setes.

Before boarding our flight we joined in airport celebrations today when Argentina pulled off the win against Iran during stoppage time. We're buzzing with excitement, and currently I'm about to be yelled at by the flight attendant* for having my phone on while we're in final descent into...Ushuaia!?!?

We've now just arrived here at the bottom of the Earth (kind of). It looks cold outside. I think it'll hover around 0C most of our time here, so nothing we haven't experienced, but quite the change, and possibly made worse by biting wind. Part of me is curious and wants to experience the fury that nature brings down here at the southern tip of the continent. Gavin, Lauren, and I recently read a book called the Uttermost Part of the Earth, a memoir written by the son of the major actor in Ushuaia's original settlement in the late 1800s. They had to deal with gnarly conditions, to say the least, including horrifying shipwrecks, difficulties communicating and interacting with the natives (they're now nearly all gone), and making snowballs from time to time. Can't wait to experience this place. Now for the solstice party - everyone stays awake until sunrise (10 am) to celebrate the longest night of the year (16.5 hours).

* This was affirmed seconds later.

Iguaçu -> Iguazu

You´ll notice that my apostrophes have become accents, which means we made it to a Spanish-speaking keyboard. We did it by foot yesterday, walking the 12 kilometers from Foz do Iguaçu on the Brazilian side to the town of Puerto Iguazu on the Argentina side, making stops at both customs checkpoints* and crossing the high one-lane international bridge. The bridge is appropriately painted in green and yellow stripes until its halfway point where it cedes to sky blue and white high above the brown Rio Iguazu, still at a nearly record high. The walk took us longer than expected (past some apparently dangerous favelas - we were advised by border agents and our hostel dona that walking was pretty stupid) and our sandals blistered our delicate little American feet, but it was quite satisfying to look back at the span and distant city once safely into Argentina. An Argentinian photographer for Reuters even screeched to a halt to snap several hundred pictures of backpacked gringos in the wild, although a quick Google search has yet to turn up any accompanying news story.
Our hostel is a little paradise, and a torrent of rain twenty minutes after we arrived was quite a beautiful and soothing sound and sight as well. Showers (hot and ready!) were taken and we then wandered to the town center where we sought out a TV screen, some well-earned food and wine, and others Americans to watch the USA - Ghana game. We were thrilled with the result, although some (the nurses) enjoyed the close-up of Dempsey´s nose getting broken more than others (the rest of us... and Casey).
Getting back to speaking Spanish has been tough. I can´t believe how much simple Spanish I´ve forgotten after having practiced Portuguese so intensely for the last six months. The bonus, however, is that nearly everyone in our group now speaks the language around town. With still surprisingly few people who speak English here in Argentina this has been a boon for all. And the accent has been much easier to understand than expected. We´ll see if that changes once we get to Buenos Aires.
Pura Vida - Life is Good!

* Argentina charges Americans, Canadians, and Australians a ´reciprocity fee´. This is essentially a screw-you to the only three countries that require expensive visas of their own citizens. Reciprocity indeed.

A Wee Swim

Another one in the books for os sete. We had our first full day at our second SA destination yesterday--Foz do Iguaçu, the Brazilian side of Iguaçu Falls. In spite of several warnings that many of the attractions at the park of Iguaçu Falls would be shut down due to well-over-record flow rates over the falls (many structures have in fact been destroyed by its present crank), we were blown away by the majesty of this cataract waterfall. Peering over the river's precipices provided plenty of adrenaline.

I'll let the pictures do the talking, but first some stats. Niagara Falls has a normal flow rate of (thanks Wiki) 85,000 cubic ft/s, compared to 62,000 at Iguaçu. Right now, owing to heavy and persistent rain, it's at 1,635,000 (check this out), roughly 30 x normal. The maximum drop is 269 ft at Iguaçu, compared to 167 ft at Niagara, which means that this high water is indeed coming down hard.

We'll be seeing the Argentinian side of the park tomorrow (crossing the border by foot today), which supposedly offers more attractions in full operation. Fingers crossed for zip-lining!

Azul

** Game day blogpost pending! It was one of the most exhilerating days of all of our lives!**

Boa noite!

We made it to Foz do Iguacu after a few quick flights on Azul Brazilian Airlines without a hitch. The group of ten split in two so the late arrivals could spend more time in beautiful Salvador! We left with high spirits and warm hearts- all so pleased with our experience in such a original Brazilian city. The people of Salvador were wonderful and so welcoming- they especially appreciated Gavin's proficiency in Portuguese!

Our hostel for the next two nights is perfect-Favela Chic... "Ghetto Fab" in Portuguese . We're meeting a lot of English speakers (of course) which has given Gavin a break from being our shepherd! Our awesome British hostel owner pointed us towards the best local Brazilian steakhouse... being earlier than the rest of the town, we were the only people in the whole restaurant so the gauchos were bombarding us with skewers of meat. It was quite the problem to have- the meat was phenomenal! We also had our first bottle of Brazilian which we all agreed tasted like we were taking communion...meh. Headed to a local bar afterwards and watched the Italy vs. England game with a whole group of Italians...luckily they pulled it off with the win!

Tomorrow we plan to head to the Brazilian side of Iguacu Falls which are currently flooded due to crazy amounts of rain over the past days/weeks. Here's an interesting link to see what they normally look like and what we'll probably be seeing.

 http://www.gizmodo.com.au/2014/06/iguaz-falls-overflow-after-flood-of-biblical-proportions/

Unfortunately, we'll be limited with what fun outdoor activities we can do at the falls, but I trust we'll find some memorable adventure to dive into!

Loving life!

Lauren

ps. quick photo from yesterday at the game (with some random guy...they sure loved us Americans!)

Carnavalinho

In downtown Salvador basking in the moment. Picked up Austin, Casey, and two of Austin's coworkers at the airport yesterday and made our way downtown. Everyone was abuzz, and as the opening ceremony in São Paulo was drawing to a close we headed over to the FIFA Fanfest at the very tip of Salvador's peninsula, in front of the lighthouse. A sea of yellow and green. Chants and cheap beer. We all got our faces and arms painted. And two massive TV screens, one on the hillside and one on the promenade, where we watched Brazil go down 0-1 against Croatia to start out and then finish the game 3-1. Disappointment and despair to sheer euphoria and chaos. The game ended and a spontaneous Carnaval-like parade commenced through the streets of Salvador. Incredible drumming, beautiful costumed women, synchronized dancing, and an electric samba beat on a float at the end which we trailed and danced with until the parade ended. Anna and Lauren got pulled into the drum circle for one final frenetic cadence before everyone dispersed into the night. What a day. And now today, Spain vs. Netherlands at the stadium, five rows from the field. WHAT A RUSH... HERE WE GO!!!

Bread in the Sink

Bread in the sink-

Captains Log:

Wednesday. Hump Day. Third day of our trip. "Fourth-day" in Portuguese. One for the books.

The day started at 8:30am, when Evan woke us all up because breakfast ended in an hour. Good thing he did - after 23 hours of traveling and sleeping vertically the day before, the Denver crew would have stayed horizontal long past breakfast. The swelling from Lauren's travel-cankles moved to her eyes, and sleeping with raised legs seemed to be a successful treatment for Jeff's jiggly tree trunks. 

We gorged on a breakfast of croissants, sausages, eggs and the worst coffee anyone had ever had. Despite our hunger we limited our plates to avoid the "Waste tax" that was in place at the Hotel. After cleaning our plates we changed into our bathing suits and headed to the bus stop to travel to Flamengo Beach - the nicest beach around. Big props to Gavin here, we would have taken the ever-popular-with-the-locals 'thumbs up' as a sign we were doing something right and gotten on the wrong bus...about 8 times.  I feel like we are all sheep and just look to Gavin for direction. As soon as he starts talking to a local in Portuguese the rest of us walk a few yards away and graze (converse) until the shepherd comes and tells us where to go. The group is extremely baa-lessed to have him around. 

The shepherd got us to the beach and we negotiated the price of the VIP beach service cabana down to 10 Reai, or ~5$. The day was filled with fun in the sun, beers, local seafood, and lack of sunscreen for Anna and I.

After we arrived back at the hotel, we showered and hit the gelato place for the second time and the owner thought we could keep the shack open for another week haha. You've never seen a happier entrepreneur - or a happier me. I've said it once, I'll say it again. White Chocolate Fudge that hardens upon contact with gelato should be in every supermarket across the UNIVERSE. 

We followed up Gelato with a walk to a local tienda for some snacks and a few hot dogs. If you would have asked me if ketchup, mayonnaise, italian dressing, and crushed up potato chips would go well together on a hot dog, I would have said no way. And I'm still right. Also, portuguese oreos are a poor excuse for the american version. They have some work to do on the frosting recipe, and the ratio of cookie to frosting also. 

We came back to another night filled with drinks and cards. Looking forward to  meeting up with Casey and Austin in the morning! We just got shushed by the hotel staff for being too loud. Sorry for being Amurican. Apparently my typing is too loud for the guests. Or maybe it's the shouting. You can take these midwesterners out of the midwest, but you can't take the Euchre our of the midwesterner. 

We OUT. 

Jeff "The Cot-Captain" Wulliman 

Ice is Nice

Today we FINALLY arrived in Salvador! It was a lengthy journey, leaving Denver at 7am. After stopping in Orlando, FL;  Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic; and Sau Paulo, Brazil, we arrived in Salvador at 930am local time. Definitely sleep deprived but feeling high on our journey! Thanks to our solamente Portugese speaking leader, Gavin, all travel connections went smoothly.

First things first, we picked up our World Cup tickets and through the luck of the lottery, we got four seats in the 5th row and four in the 18th row! People are paying around $1,000/ seat for these tickets (we didn't pay near this much)!

We settled into the Maristella Pousida Hotel and our friend, Evan, who has been traveling Central and South America for the past two months, reunited with us. It is so great to see him! We walked a couple of blocks to the beach for the rest of the day and the tides were rippin' and the sun was hot. Thanks to our weather aficionados, James and Gavin, we were able to watch the cumulonimbus :) storm clouds roll in around 2pm. Thanks to our non-weather aficionados, the walk home was extremely windy and wet. Luckily our hotel is in such great location that we've been able to walk to restaurants serving local Bahia meat and seafood and even a special gelato cafe... where Jeff may have overindulged! 

Playing cards and sipping some celebratory drinks at the moment, we are enjoying our first night down in South America! What a great group of people to be surrounded by :) Counting down the minutes until we are finally able to sleep horizontal, tomorrow will continue our incredible adventure...

Our seats for June 13th!

                                          
                                                                   Denver --> Orlando!


Tim Tim ("Ching Ching"),
Anna

Aviões

Got my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight, hope I don't get seated next to a crying baby.

The anticipation is burning now. At 3:45 am tomorrow, Gavin, Lauren, and Ms. Lauren pick me up to get down to our 7 am flight out of DIA with fellow Coloradoans Anna and Jeff. We've got three flights total to get down to Salvador, which will put us in around 9:30 am on Tuesday. Once we land we race straight off to get our World Cup tickets for the Spain–Netherlands game on Friday (look for the 7 Americans). I think it will finally be real once we hold those in our hands.

Being economy travelers, we'll be sampling the various Walmarts of the sky across nations. But rest assured, our carry-ons will be stocked with a couple airline-sized celebrationals for once we're wheels up. Standby for first updates from the other side! Voamos!

Bloco em Foco

Yesterday while strolling downtown FoCo, Gavin and I stumbled across an Afro-Brazilian drum ensemble that plays here in northern Colorado AND they play music special to Salvador- our first stop. What are the chances?! We had chills listening to the amazing beats they were producing and it made us even more excited and ready to embark on this adventure.

All packed into a backpack weighing exactly 30 lbs... not too shabby! Last full day at home for me (and Anna). We both work 7a-7p tomorrow, then we're off at 7 am the following morning!