Not dead, malled by soccer balls, eaten by coyotes. tomorrow will be the birthday of our youngest, brightest, argentinian goddess amore, Meg Mutt. we haven´t writen in a while... we haven´t writen about the trip at all. Today we sleep at the firestation in Vedia along Route 7 after 125km completed, ousting yesterday´s, which taken from an email from that day:
"our first full day's ride [was] 105 Kilometers! to find out the amount in miles multiple that number by 6.85, then move the decimal over to the left one. Then add 12 for extreme head winds and 15 for the thunderstorm we were riding in, 4 for sleeping in a dusty park last night, and multiple that number by 2 because we are in south america and that is how many mile we road today."
We eat food from our camping stove this evening and talk of birds, trees, and little girl things. tampon, tampon, boobies. This morning we woke from our HOTEL BEDS, a patronaged gift from the most incredible couple from Chacabuco. Bicycle enthusiasts and all around wonderfountains, the 80 something year olds welcomed us into there home yesterday evening (mostly because we were loitering in front of their house) for talk of bikes, the sharing of matte, jello, internet, and eventually they bought us a hotel room. why? because this is argentina. yea, we´re confused too. we are confused as well. but it is magic.
The night prior we slept in the park of the small town of San Antonio de Giles. More like, we were given the keys to the city... park. The whole town seemed to stand behind us as we were invited to dance and drink at the firehouse gala events. but a muggy day made for sleepy mutts. This was also the day we left Buenos aires via a train to Lujan. Ah, Lujan, a place where mass pilgrimage is made to the grand cathedral! we actually only stayed here for about a half hour. it was ok. oh, but that train ride! we highly recommend having an argentinian train ride experience.
It was hard to leave Buenos Aires, where our first afternoon we stumbled upon An anrachist/cooperative/portuguese and the like/ bike punk/ dumpster diving (recyclar)/gorilla farming/ of¨" the movement" (as they called it) group at THE Cultural Center of LA SALa. Details are in the title, we ate, we danced, and we stayed at their collective. They had a garden occupying as plot of land owned by the railroad called La Huerta Orgazmica where they grew many medicinal and edible plants, and where currently battling to keep. When we left, handmade gifts from our nuevo amigos adorned our ears.
There is so much to tell that we just caN´T, BECAUSE WE HAVE TO BE HERE DOING IT, IN ORDER to be able to have it to tell. When we don´t update this site, it is a good sign, because that means something excellent is probably happening. Thanks for baring with us.
óh, and we can´t download pictures on this computer which kind of makes the entry like a porno with no boobs. tampon, tampon, boobies. it´s like you´re here with us!
-Tanner than ever,
MUTTS
