(Team Freedom29 - Day 1)
(Picture from The Lost City post)
(Picture from A la Cartagena post)Truthfully, the thought of having to write this post and thereby acknowledge that this chapter of our lives has come to a conclusion has gotten me misty more times than the ending of Field of Dreams. Others certainly have travelled longer and gone further, but I can't really put into words what this trip has done for my emotional well-being and general outlook on life. We didn't do this trip because we needed to escape from our normal lives, but the distance and time away has delivered a clarity that I'm not sure I would have discovered in Calgary. Even though the end of the trip has brought me face-to-face with the realization that my future is still very much up-in-the-air, I've had ample opportunity to identify the aspects of my life that bring me happiness and fulfillment. I want to prioritize these things once I'm home; I want more of these things. It's not that I'm newly greedy or selfish, but slightly refocused. Normally, I wouldn't think of being unemployed as a positive, but in this instance it feels like a chance to find something I'm passionate about and something that accords with what I'd like for my personal life. I hope that I don't squander the opportunity.
(Picture from Cruzing for a Bruising post)
I've been asked a few times along the way if I had any regrets that we decided to embark on this adventure. I know regret - I'm the guy who put transition lenses into his most recent pair of everyday eyeglasses - but I will never regret that I just spent the last 140 days with the most important person in my life and that we have fostered an incalculable number of memories that, cliché as it may sound, we will share for a lifetime. I don't regret challenging myself to learn a new language (even if I wasn't great at it) or putting myself into unfamiliar and sometimes difficult situations. I also don't regret the opportunity to learn about cultures and people different than our own and, as a result, learn more about myself. Conversely, I have absolutely no doubt that if we had chosen not to do the trip back when we were still deliberating, I would always have felt some regret. I know Kristin feels the same way.
(Picture from Machu Picchu and the Inca Trail post)
Kristin spoke of being rejuvenated in her last contribution. Like her, I feel that the novelty and challenges of the trip melted away stress and left me feeling young again. Has the trip fundamentally changed who I am? Probably not. It's romantic to think a trip of this nature could set in motion a string of life-altering epiphanies (though, probably less "romantic" to my mother-in-law, who feared the trip would turn me into a globetrotting hippie who'd stay on the road forever and never give her grandbabies), but the changes I notice in myself are more subtle (or maybe it's just that I'm finally maturing). The trip also strongly reinforced the importance in my attempting to see life as a journey instead of a series of destinations. It's a lesson I find myself often losing sight of, but I think the times when I have it dialled-in makes me feel like a more attentive and empathetic person - someone I like better.
(Picture from With a Terrain of Salt post)
As for my beloved blog, I'm sad to report that it has provided us with neither fame nor fortune - the stated goals in our first post - and our coveted endorsement deal with Icebreaker never materialized. But Kristin and I already find ourselves rereading the posts constantly, so I know we've created something that we'll be able to enjoy for years to come. We also wanted the blog to help us stay connected and I think it's done that. We've received emails and Facebook messages from so many friends along the way who've wished us well or expressed excitement for things they saw on the site. What I didn't expect was that the blog would stir up something creative in me and help me realize how much I enjoy writing. I'd like to figure out a way to keep writing in some capacity when I'm home, as well as try to find some other outlets for my creative energy. In that vein, if you see me one year from now and I haven't learned to play whatever the guitar equivalent of Hot Cross Buns (the first song we learned on the Recorder in elementary school) is, you have my permission to slap me across the face. Just don't hit my nose - it's been through enough already.
(Picture from Paying it Forward post)
For those that haven't fallen asleep yet, let me start wrapping this up by saying that I feel very lucky. I feel very lucky to have been born in a country where it's possible to enjoy a seemingly endless list of freedoms and luxuries that are far too easy to take for granted. I feel lucky to have the backing of amazing family and friends in all of my endeavors. More than anything else I feel lucky to have Kristin. With the possible exception of her evil right foot, I couldn't ask for anything more from the person I get to share my life with or from a travel companion. I'm proud of the person that she is and I'm proud of the person that she was on the trip (true to herself, but full of pleasant surprises). I wouldn't have wanted to do any part of this adventure without her (and never would have gone on a trip like this if we hadn't met), but, with her there by my side, I could have stayed away indefinitely. Maybe most importantly of all, she believes in me so strongly and supports me so completely that I feel like I can do anything I put my mind to. Ultimately, that's all I really need to be happy, wherever we might happen to be.
(Picture from Falling for Floripa post)
A couple of blogs I've seen capped off their final post with an impressive quote from a historical figure, philosopher or poet. Unfortunately, I'm not so well-read as those bloggers, but I like the concept. In any event, I can't think of anything more fitting than what I've reproduced below, courtesy of the late, great Dicky Fox:
Hey, I don't have all the answers. In life, to be honest, I've failed as much as I've succeeded. But I love my wife. I love my life. And I wish you my kind of success.
Thanks for reading.
(Team Freedom 29 - Final Day)
It was tough to know what to expect leading up to our arrival - about half of the people we met on our travels who had been to BsAs totally raved about it and the other half had absolutely nothing good to say about it (culminating in a Londoner telling us right before we arrived that it was, quite plainly, "a dump"). Appearance-wise, the streets looked decidedly European. Hobbles (the nickname I've given to my gimpy wife) was reminded of Paris and I was taken back down Memory Lane to Vienna. Our neighbourhood was filled with dozens of parks and the jacaranda trees lining the wide avenues and narrow streets alike were all in bloom, meaning that the city was teeming with purple flowers that filled with air with a pleasant, sweet fragrance. I guess if you had Hay Fever you would be less impressed, but I think the "dump" theory can pretty much be discarded.
For us, travelling is walking, and watching Hobbles limp to the grocery store on a daily basis (so as not to be left out of the evening's wine selection process) was truly an inspirational sight. Of course, as I would hope has become obvious by now, I kid. To be truthful, I arrived in BsAs upset that Kristin's injury probably meant that we wouldn't have an opportunity to properly experience the surroundings, but Kristin has willed herself to see about as much of the city as could have been expected from someone with a broken bone in their foot and probably more than 90% of able-bodied people could have managed. She has never ceased to amaze me on this trip.
2. The idea of attending a tango show probably was more appealing to Kristin prior to booking, but the production she picked out was unbelievably professional and sexy. That's right, parents - I'm saying the word "sexy" in a public forum. Basically, it was dancing, singing, acting and orchestra all rolled into one, and the best dancing I've ever seen to boot. It also didn't hurt that we ran into a live, public ballet production with about 20,000 spectators immediately outside the theatre and in front of one of the city's main landmarks (check out the obelisk in our pics) on the way to the show. These things just don't happen back home.
3. Of all the things we had planned, I was most jacked about the prospect of attending a soccer match featuring the La Boca Juinors (Maradonna's old team), especially after the big stadium I wanted to visit in Rio de Janeiro turned out to be closed in preparation for the 2014 World Cup. The La Boca neighbourhood and the soccer matches there are notoriously sketchy, so we went the safe route by paying a little more to go with a tour operator. After being briefed on the dangers of the neighbourhood, we were given a final set of instructions which included, "do not for any reason show your tickets to anybody, even if they claim to be police officers, as this is incredibly dangerous." So, you can imagine how thrilled we were when, five seconds after exiting our van, we were met by some very, very large men claiming to be police officers and demanding to see our tickets. This is where the expertise of our guide was to factor in, but I have never seen someone more petrified in my life. The twenty or so minutes that followed were infinitely more terrifying than when we were actually robbed in Colombia. After all of us had been stripped of our tickets (we were told that they were the type of tickets that should not have been sold to us in the first place .... or some BS like that), we were told to get back into the van along with the "police officers" and some other tourists they had rounded up, the former of which would make sure that we got seats inside the stadium. When we informed our guide that we had no intention of getting back into the van with these men, he told us that the one man had a gun and he would have to ask whether we would be allowed to leave. Ultimately, six of the 12 of us refused to get in the van and, after being followed down the street by some pretty creepy people, got into taxis and left the area. I had to settle for watching part of the soccer match on TV, but it was good to emerge from the crooked cop/thug shakedown relatively unscathed. 
For Britt's visit, we planned four nights in Rio de Janeiro (Kristin and I arrived a day earlier and had a fifth night), three nights on beautiful Ilha Grande and our last night in the colonial, waterside town of Paraty and its UNESCO protected historic center. It was a good itinerary with largely disappointing weather. After one rainy day in Rio, the rain started again after our first night in Ilha Grande and never stopped. I found it tough not to feel bad for Britt that so many days of her stay were marred by bad weather and even tougher not to feel bad for myself that we invited down somebody who would bring such foul weather with her from Calgary. Notwithstanding the rain, I would say (and I really hope that Britt would agree) that we still managed to have a really good time and share a lot of laughs. Britt was also a good sport about the comically small room we shared in Rio (which is one downside of letting the backpackers choose the accommodation), which probably wasn't the ideal setting for a person with an actual job to unwind during their vacation time.
Some brief Rio thoughts: If there's a more beautiful city in the world, it's hard to imagine what it would have to look like. Rio's blessed with so many beautiful features that it almost seems like an embarrassment of riches. Kristin loved the long beaches that lined the city (particularly Copacabana Beach), Britt loved the Big Jesus watching over the city, and I loved the severity of the mountains jutting out of the water or protuding alongside neighbourhoods throughout the city. We only saw a handful of the many neighbourhoods I would have liked to have visited, but I found them each to have their own character and worthy of a return visit. In addition to its physical beauty, I also felt like the city had its own pulse that seemed to strengthen with the temperature. On the day it rained, it almost seemed like the city was in a state of mourning or hibernation. The pulse, of course, is a function of the people, and watching the cariocas and their love affair with the beach was fascinating and probably would be a reason to make the trip by itself.
Like other large cities we've visited in South America, there is an obvious divide between poor and wealthy citizens, but the socioeconomic groups live in much closer proximity to one another in Rio, where 
Finally, we end off with some unfortunate news. Some weeks ago, Kristin developed a nagging pain in her foot, likely as a result of too much walking and hiking. Sadly, it has continued to worsen and now it appears Kristin has developed a stress fracture in the foot and will be in a boot cast for the foreseeable future. The good news is that the name of the cast is the "Bota Robocop", which is super bad ass and makes me wish I too had robotic appendages. The bad news is that it isn't entirely clear at this point what the injury means to the rest of our trip. Hopefully a few days to heal and bottle of Malbec or two in Buenos Aires (where we arrive on Monday) will shed some light on the situation.
Tired of the rivers and lakes that we were used to, we ignored TLC's well-known advice and went chasing waterfalls. What we tracked down was Iguazu Falls at the intersection of the Argentinian, Brazilian and Paraguayan borders (and visited the Argentinian side of the Falls). How good was it? Well, I love waterfalls, so I would have been school-girl giddy with whatever we happened to find there. Kristin, on the other hand, doesn't particularly care for waterfalls [Editor's note: honestly, who doesn't like waterfalls?], told me she had been unimpressed by Niagara Falls [Editor's note: tough crowd, though I note she did have good things to say about the nearby wineries] and appeared to be feigning interest prior to her arrival after I made her promise not to ruin the visit for me. When we finally got there, however, Kristin was a convert - snapping photos like a crazy person and giggling after all of the good mistings. Not even the scolding she got from a park ranger for feeding wildlife could dampen her enthusiasm. Conclusion? Either Iguazu Falls > Niagara Falls or Kristin was still loopy from the big beer I made her split with me the night before we visited. Either way, it's good to have her on our side now. On to Brazil!
Other than a couple of bus rides, five nights in Florianopolis (or "Floripa" to those of us who are in tight) was responsible for our first impression of Brazil. I think we chose wisely. The whole of Santa Catarina Island (of which Floripa is a part) has a population in the neighbourhood of 400,000, who were the fittest and, objectively, probably the most beautiful people we've come across on our trip to date. Organic and other healthy foods dominated most menus in town and visiting outside of the high-season for Brazilian tourism meant that everybody was incredibly laid back and one could find hikes and beaches without any other people during the weekdays. I'm giving the whole town one gold star since it was one of its hostels that finally granted my wish of an all-you-can-eat South American barbecue, but then taking the gold star away because board shorts in town (which I am in dire need of) cost between CDN$90-160.
By my count, it took us about three days to figure out the right mix for the Floripa coastal experience.
You can check out some of our pictures from Iguazu and Floripa 
[Aside #1: The only thing which detracted from my Salta experience was the bit I read in one of the guidebooks before arriving which said that travellers should really try to get invited to an asado (an Argentinian private barbecue, where copious amounts of fire-roasted beef and wine are typically served). What does that mean .... try to get invited? I can't get my best friends back home to invite me over for a barbecue, but now I'm supposed to try and get Argentinian strangers to invite me to one of theirs? I think the best offer I've received to-date was a drag off of somebody's cigarette. Until I find one, I'm compensating by ordering beef at every meal.]
After three days in Salta, we headed a few hours south to the town of Cafayate - in Northwest Argentina's canyon and wine country - where day-to-day life seemed to largely revolve around the main church and evening dinners out with family and friends. Our plans for Cafayate were ambitious - we wanted to mix a modest amount of exercise into the rigorous eating and drinking schedule we developed in Salta. The exercise included hiking around local vineyards and was highlighted by a 50km bike ride through the red canyons and desert of the Quebrada de Cafayate. In anticipation of the bike ride and after much searching, Kristin managed to procure what I'm convinced were the only two bicycle helmets in town. The man who rented the helmets said two things which turned out not to be in my favour: (1) We could only rent his helmets if we also rented his bikes (which meant that I was stuck with a bike seat from the 19th century which violated me so badly that I am still walking gingerly); and (2) we had to pay the full-date rate in advance, but if we got the bikes back to him by a certain time - which he didn't think would be possible - he would refund us 40% of our money (which got Kristin's competitive fires going and ended any possibility of the romantic, Wedding Crashers-like bike ride that I had been envisioning). Kristin happily turned a portion of the inevitable refund we received into 250 grams of ice cream at a local parlor.
[Aside #2: Presumably because Argentina seems so modern in comparison to some of the places we've visited, Kristin informed me a couple of days after our arrival in Salta that we are no longer really travelling.... we are vacationing. Now, I'm not sure that there is a need to differentiate, but if "vacationing" means that I won't be sprinting to the washroom after meals and the showers won't give me mild electric shocks from time to time, vacation suits me just fine. I note that I am writing this post in the middle of a 23-hour bus ride. No word yet from Kristin on whether this constitutes vacationing or travelling, but my aching back tells me that it is still probably the latter.]
Our pictures from Salta and the surrounding area are