Saturday 5 June 2010

VIDEO: dylan on the road - ecuador to the Peruvian Andes. Length 5:53

Thursday 3 June 2010

STORY: bienvenidos: Mysten Kepen, Ushuaia

mysten kepen:
I woke early so we could say our final goodbyes before Rosario rushed off to work. I made my way down stairs to the breakfast room, 'Buenos Dias Rosar-'
Rosario sat at the breakfast table head in her hands and tears streaming down her cheeks, pastries and coffee untouched in front of her. Outside the relentless Patagonic wind pelted hard rain against the window.
'Why is Rosario crying?' I ask Roberto.
'Because you go.' Roberto's English wasn't great, though he'd definitely improved over this last week, and he seemed to have grasped the concept of getting straight to the point.
'She cry because you go', he said.

Rosario is crying because we're leaving? Man. Nobody likes goodbyes - though I consider myself pretty good at them - that much I do know. I thought about that for a minute.
...crying because we're leaving
...and we're leaving because of me
...that ain't right

I took Roberto's arm leading him into the living room and said in a half whisper: 'I tell you last night why we go.' My Spanish, however bad, had also improved somewhat, but I was going to have to explain it again.
The broom he held stopped sweeping the floor. 'Si Dylan, pero...'
'We were only going to stay here for 2 nights: New Years Eve and the next day. That was a week ago and we're still here!' Outside, black clouds traveled north from the Arctic darkening the room as they stormed by, but the rain had stopped. 'Because you and Rosario have been cooped up with your 3 kids in that one bedroom for a week in your own home, and not only that, you've been turning people away so we can stay longer and now you don't even want us pay!' I stood with my arms outstretched at him as if to say: Roberto, why you make-a thisa so hard for me? 'You know we would love to stay longer, but it's impossible. We're at the end of our trip, we have no money left and our flight home is less in less that 2 weeks, from Rio, over 4000 kilometers from here. I knew he was understanding me, he'd heard it all last night when we were all a little drunk on wine. His bottom lip rolled into a wry smile and he stared straight into my eyes. Then I heard a door close and the shlip shlop of Fiona's ugg boots coming down the stairs. Oh no, I thought, when she sees Rosario-. 'Vamos afuera amigo, fumar cigarillo', I said to Roberto.

Outside the crazy ever-changing weather broke and we took our coffee out to the garden now basked in spring sunshine. I offered and he took a L+M from the packet and we lit up and smoked. I took a few deep drags peering up at the fresh blanket of snow on the peaks, so beautiful against the crystal blue sky, wondering what I was going to say. What I was going to do. I looked over the bike, circling it a couple of times, squeezing the front brake lever for no reason, kicking the tyres; the front was good but the rear is dangerous, ridiculously bald, has been since Mendoza, but would hopefully give me a few more hundred kilometers to Rio Grande where I'll get a new one, and I'd put the panniers back on and packed them yesterday to save us time today, because we were leaving today...

Roberto, as if feeling my predicament, stepped over and whacked me hard on the back of the shoulder and asked me how many kilometers we'd done on this trip. I said: about 40 thousand, mas o menos.
'So to you Rio is nothing!' he said wearing his trademark broad fatherly grin slapped across his face. 'You must enjoy the fruits of the now Dylan!' I could only sigh. I really love this place, and this place seemed to love me too. Seems I'm not so good at goodbyes as I thought I was. Going felt so wrong. Staying felt so right - but impossible. Through the window I could see Fiona comforting Rosario, the two woman were embracing, their arms wrapped around the others shoulders. I knew what Fi would be saying: It's Dylan's decision. It's Dylan's decision - and so it had been, mostly, for the best part of a year, all the way from Fort Myers in Florida, I was the rider, I had been doing all the pouring over maps, calculating distances while keeping one eye on weather patterns and which month it was; but this last week we have all grown so close - family-close - inseparable... Fi caught my eye and shot me a look over Rosario's shoulder - How can you do this to us, can't you see how sad we are? you bastard!

I chucked what coffee was left in my mug down my throat and wanted more but thought it safer to go across the road and smoke another cigarette by the river. I watched some kids kicking a football around the basketball court. A new bank of black clouds was hauling in some more rain and new snow. The wind picked up. Not the best riding conditions, I thought. Matilda crossed the road and sat down by my feet, watching the football and whatever else a dog finds interesting. I knelt down and scratched the back of his neck and asked him: 'Que pasar eh perro?' A couple of minutes later Roberto joined us with fresh coffee. I'd just put one out but took the one he was offering and lit both his and my cigarettes. Luciano and Robertito bounded out of the front door clawing and pulling at each others cloths but Luciano being older won the race for the scateboard, jumped on and rode it down the driveway to us with Robertito still chasing him. Roberto called out for them to watch the road as a car went by. Then Rosario emerged from the front door holding a tissue and Fiona's hand, walking towards us.
I turned to Roberto, 'Rosario must be ready to go to wo-', but I stopped mid sentence. He stood grinning at me. Just a big ol grin lighting up his telling face as if he were god with all the answers to all my prayers: It's inevitable - the monologue in my head is only torturing and distracting me from happiness, from what is right and a waste of time trying to fight-, that we would surely stay. Had to stay. So I told him we would stay and hugged him. Lose one father, gain another, I thought. The ladies clearly sensed it and ran across the road now leaking tears of joy. The Goddess of travel had revealed herself and once again we reveled and danced in her glory.
'But what about tonight?' I asked, 'todos habitaciones es ocupado!'
'No hay problema Amigos', Rosario squealed, 'you can sleep on the laundry floor, with Matilda!' Matilda, still at my feet, pricked her ears at the sound of her name and I knelt and ruffled the fur on the back of her head again.
'It's settled then, we're staying ha!'. We all laughed. Rosario thought now is as good a time as any to tell us: 'Es mi compliano manyana!'
I rode shotgun as we sped her to work in the car, and went shopping for birthday presents. And cake.









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Wednesday 2 June 2010

SLIDESHOW: chile & argentina patagonia

chile & argentina patagonia

Tuesday 1 June 2010