So I tangoed. I liked.
Met three American girls. A bit OMG, but very sweet.

I went to the Centro Cultural de la Recoleta
I love exhibitions
They always inspire me
Pequeño Editor
I love looking at drawings. Because I can’t create anything similarly beautiful. That’s why I take pictures.
None and lots of imagination needed
An eye
An instinct for capturing moments
What I love most about photography is that by pressing that button, you capture a moment that will never come back.
Not by putting on the same music
Not by wearing those same clothes and standing over there
Compositions of a moment
Protagonists: unknown
Smiles: unfaked
Hair moved by the wind: unforeseen
That’s why, unlike ideas you can note down in bullet points on a random piece of paper while riding the bus, if you miss that moment to take that picture, you instantly know that you lost it forever.

Waiting for the rain, Ray Charles singing in the background
New green shoes
Clouds loading on the horizon, beyond the airport
Homework undone
Reading Marcovaldo in Spanish. Weirdest.
Surprised how people get out of their way to help me find my bus stops
Friendly crowd
The burning sun
The noisy wind
Wonderful microclimate

I am standing at the balconylessbalcony
Halflights in the apartment
It’s a warm summer night in the Southern hemisphere
The city to my feet
Lights close, in the distance
Everydaylife, ten floors down
A lonely taxi passes on that street
Ever there
It’s Friday night
People are out, I am at home
What makes out my own little universe, I wonder
Again no tango lessons tonight
I should

It's BsAs. It's night.

How can you possibly choose between standing on the top of a mountain, overlooking a million peaks, or driving through absolute nothingness – and the buzzing life in a big city, full of art, ideas, buses cruising the streets, bars, restaurants, parks, books, passing faces, existences barely touching each other.


I love looking out of the window, while on the bus, watching other buses pas, each one its own little universe.

And I eat, standing in the kitchen, wearing my black dress, and I think about life. My life. Life in general and life specifically. And I can’t stop wondering.
I try to think about what brought me here. I try to imagine what else life has to offer me. What will come next. And when. But it’s useless. I will be surprised in any case.

And I think about those tango lessons and I ask myself whose voices I am hearing through the open windows, down on the street, on this hot Thursday night, from the 10th floor.

Overlooking. From a safe distance. The city.

I wonder what stories the other girls would have to tell, those who stayed in this room before, slept in the notsocomfortable bed, took the same bus, or another, or none, loved it, hated it, moved on, stayed.

I wonder why the traffic never stops. What are people doing at this time of the day? Its night already.

I wonder where Nora’s cat was while it wasn’t at home.

I wonder who will find me and I wonder when I will have memorised all those irregular and not so irregular verbs.

I wonder who chose the tiles in this apartment.


I walk the busy streets of BsAs
Water dripping from the air con, all over the sidewalks, all along
It’s a million degrees hot
N and D are on a plane back to Europe
I will miss them. We had a lot of fun.

People waiting. People watching.

City of dogs. I hate every single one of their owners.

Downtown. Nosky.

Embracing Talcahuano

Today: my first day of school
The teacher is lovely and the other kid doesn’t bully me. So it’s all good.
Moved to Palermo Soho. Surrounded by cafés and restaurants. Me likes.

The last days:
A lot of theme and situational singing
Food (a lot of food, actually). Exploring. Markets. Talking. Laughing.
MALBA. Museums. Mattresses.
Wine upgrades
Chicken, headdown, filled with plastic bags


Flight to Iguazu: missed.
I might have said this before, but Aerolinas Argentinas is a disaster. BUT: they show Glee! And you have your own little TV. Which is more than Lufthansa offers on their 13hrs flight across the Atlantic. I don’t think I ever laughed so much over a stupid TV show. It’s so bad it’s good. No, well actually it’s really bad. And yes, once more on our trip people must’ve thought we were completely out of our minds BUT those of you who have seen that show know what I’m talking about (for the records: I haven’t seen any more episodes after these flights. Oh, yes, plural. Four full episodes! *mwa*)

Luggage. No luggage.

Puerto Iguazu: a strange place
Nice bed sheets
Free caipirinhas
Terrible live music
The international language of love
Cleavages and late check outs
Planning next food while eating food

Water. A lot of it.

The falls: amazing
A lot, a lot of water
On the Argentinean side: the water
On the Brazilian side: the panorama
A tribillion tourists each day. They all come to stare at water. What’s it about waterfalls? Hard to tell from the distance. Easy to tell when you’re under them. Like us. On that boat.

Rowing. And no, we were not afraid of any of the superdangerous animals out there in the water *shakinghead*

Goingdowndown. Down.

Giantbarilochemuffins. For looking. Not for eating.

Wonderful setting
Swiss ski resort feel
Up and down
Saturday afternoon excursion, instead of on a mountain, in a bus. Rain outside.
Beschlagene Scheiben
Got drenched
Got back
Went bowling in a shopping mall. Watched N play her first game ever. Laughed. Applauded.
Horse riding. French girls. Galloping without falling off, I’m a hero.
Bruised legs
Beautiful day. Beautiful days.




The reason

El Bolson_S 41°58’23” W 71°30’56”

The bus trip from Esquel to El Bolson: snowy mountain, Andes feeling like back in 2002
Wide open spaces
Not the kind of nothingness you feel and can almost touch when you drive through Southern Patagonia
A different kind
A mountainous kind
El Bolson seems to be a laid back little place
I wait, surrounded by our bags, in a street café, that N and D come back with good news for accommodation
Watching the ‘busy’ street life, I drink a submarino. I love submarinos. A simple yet delicious invention.

This place turns out to be a hippie town full of stoned people, young and old.
A very nice market, after the rain, selling everything from politically (in)correct dolls to berries in all forms, music instruments, empanadas, woollen pullovers, stuff, more stuff, and toys for kids(?) that look as if they were created under the influence of illegal substances.



Lots of ice cream
New music instruments
An unsuccessful band and a fired manager
A nice walk, up and down, to a refugio

On the way back.

Esquel_S 42° 54 0 W 71° 19 0

After almost a whole day of driving through absolute nothingness

In Esquel, people like to water their front lawn. Even if they don’t have a front lawn.

Random thoughts pop up in my head, in this place –
If the Argentinians didn’t eat so many cows, there would be less leather bags
Waterfalls never look good on pictures
In Argentina, you always have stuff in your shoes

Parque de los Alerces

Day one: a group excursion (or: a social experiment)
Moohs and määähs
A boat
No tomatoes
A day at the lake
A lot of laughter. And stretching.

D und NMe and N

Day two: a beautiful 7hrs hike around the lake
After every peak we climbed, there was another one
Ice fields
Loose rocks
Breathtaking views
Back down: an hour in the sun
Warm skin, hidden

Downdown, down, down

The road always winds. Up or down.
An old man takes our bus. He gets on next to purple flowers. And leaves again at the beginning of the town.

Esquel: left

09 January

D broke a sink in the hostel and they had lettuce again
El Chaltén. What a place
I ate the berryicecream, so I will be back

Already more than 16hrs on the bus
Another 6 or so to go
Out there: nothing


Earlier: snow capped mountains in the very far distance
Some guanacos
Some sheep
I don’t remember when I last travelled on such a bumpy dirt road for so many kms
We stop in the weirdest places
Thicker Than Water in my ears
Yellowishgreen bushes
And the horizon
It’s all a bit greybluishpurple
A few more sheep – if they know their way home?
A loud movie in Russian
Next stop: middle of nowhere
It must be a million degrees in this bus
No view
Jack sings for me
Another 3-5hrs
The sun is highhigh up in the sky

While usually a million thoughts run through my mind, this place strangely quiets me down. The most difficult thing to do in this moment is to coordinate apple pie, music, writing, bad coffee and taking in the view.

Coloured little houses
People coming back from the mountains
It’s a tiny place
A few hundred people. I think I’ve seen all of them. Twice.
A handful of streets. ‚Streets’.
Two pharmacies. They know me in both. Painkillers, knee supports and sunscreen.
A speed limit of 25km/h. If you drive any faster, you miss the town.

One of two.

I missed travelling timelessly
When you don’t know which day it is. Tuesday, Sunday.
When you don’t have to be anywhere at a specific time
When you make your own time table
And the only thing you ‚need’ to do is catch that bus to go to that place

Today, again, it is foreverlight
It feels as if you’re never supposed to be tired
The whole place is foreverpresent
The curtain never falls

07 January

Still in El Chaltén
Yesterday: the most gorgeous dayhike of my life so far – Fitz Roy
1 knee
We were luckylucky with the weather
Up up up
Through breathtaking scenery
Mäandrierende Flüsse
Blue skies
Up some more
Dead trees
Exposed roots
Clear rivers
Up some more
The last bit: almost vertical
Loose rocks
The background to the bare and rocky climb: the peaks of Mr. Roy
Up some more and what opens up in front of us is the most beautiful scenery: a clear blue lake in front of those dramatic peaks
A little walk to the left and: another glacier, a turquoise glacier lake on the bottom. A waterfall.
It’s too beautiful to be put into words. So we stare and admire. We repeat the same things all over. Interrupted by some ohs and ahs.

Peter and Fitz

We left at 10am and are back at 8pm
We eat the most deserved ice cream ever
The Patagonianberryicecream tastes like soil. Or maybe that’s just us. We’re ridiculously dirty.
My knees hurt like hell, my lips are burnt.
Dinner and wine, bed.
I feel this good exhaustion in my whole body, the one you choose by going hiking, cause you want to climb a mountain just cause it’s there, just for the hell of it. Or maybe because it’s the most rewarding thing, maybe because you’ve waited fifteen years to come here, maybe because you’d never say no.
And it never gets boring. I never stop admiring. I never stop wondering. I never stop being amazed. And the more places I see, the more I am aware of all the places I haven’t seen yet.
One of the best days of my life ends. It’s still light outside.

08 January

It’s Friday (?) and I woke up to some drizzling rain. It’s all cloudy.
Nine kindergarten kids. Five of them in pink.
A drunk guy at the bus station
Pasaportes y novios
Ticket booked
Only one seat left
Booked flights to Iguazu and BsAs
No clue what I will be doing after N and D will have left
Need to write some emails

Sweet day of doing nothing

The town is out of lettuce. And lamb (the holidays! We shouldn’t have laughed. We both worked for FAO!).
But there are carrots *phew*
Soup of the day: carrots!
Pizza with aubergines: topped with: carrots!
A terrible saxophonist
“The” local band
Don’t remember when I last laughed so much
All captured on video
Poor waitress. Her first day. She might have quit the same night.
The other people (ok, there were only four others, all part of the “band” at some point of the evening) must’ve thought that we were completely stoned. Good thing the Taperia was full. It’s one of these nights.
I still don’t understand what the didgeridoo was doing there

The night our band was born. Over carrot soup. Please note the didgeridoo in the background (not part of our band)

Lago del Desierto_S 49°1’51” W 72°51’33”

Alberto lets me navigate the little boat
To the border with Chile
(Of course the other passengers don’t know this. I don’t think it’s legal. But hey, I am 13,518km away from home (yes, I calculated this), so WTF)
It feels like a God-forsaken place. Military in a small hut to defend what belongs to Argentina only since 1994. Argentina – Chile. A neverending story (?)
The lake: encantado. Escondido.
Fitz Roy in the notsofar distance

Lago del Desierto. Mr Roy in the background.

A Laurita-lunchbox
If the lake was bigger, the boat ride would’ve lasted longer
The ride back to El Chaltén is stony
Thoughts fly