Chile

After much waiting, riding, and freezing the three of us have arrived in Mendoza, Argentina.
After a few days in Valparaiso and Vina del Mar we decided to take a short trip over the Andes to the wine country of Mendoza. Unfortunately, the weather was and has been terrible for the past few days. We booked a ticket for monday morning from Valparaiso, left and turned back after a few hours because of snow. We booked for the next day and were again denied passage because of snow. We decided to go to Santiago and try to leave from there. The big bus comapnies weren´t leaving fro the next three days because of the forecast. We couldn´t stay in Santiago for another 3 days.
Finally we confirmed passage with a small minibus company who was taking an alternate route to Mendoza. We would go far South to a pass at a lower elevation then come back north to Mendoza. Essentially going to Portland from Los Angeles to get to Las Vegas.
We paid a ridiculous sum because of price gouging. Frank and I tried to drive a bargain but were rebutted every time. Frank assumes the bad cop role.
We left at 7:30 in the evening from Santiago after waiting in the terminal for the driver to finish small talking with the company owners. We loaded up baggage. One woman had an extraordinary amount of pink suitcases and jackets.
Apparently, this woman also struck some deal with the company because we spent the first two hours of our journey driving around Santiago looking for her house so she could pick something up. Afterwards, the driver had no idea how to get from wherever we were in the city to the highway we needed, he hit the wheel in frustration.
Finally, we found our way out of the city and picked up another driver on the outskirts of town.
I remember specifically asking if the van had heating at the terminal and was answered with a firm "yes". It was fucking cold in that van. My shoes were wet from walking through the rain in Sanitago and I was convinced I was feeling the death throes of my feet.
Zach, Frank, and I were all in the first row in un-reclinable chairs. We joked and read, finally we managed to drift off to sleep. We were soon awakened to the sound of the rear-view mirror falling from the window of the truck.
Drift back to SLEEP.
I had a dream I was in an airport without pants on.
AWAKE
In the mountains at the border station now- oh my god it´s even colder here.
Back in the bus. Stop for a breakfast of coffee and potato chips. It´s now been 13 hours on the bus.
Flat desolate landscape - like southern New Mexico.
We arrive in Neuquen, Argentina which reminds all of us of suburban USA. Frank notices the name is a palindrome. Most of the other passengers leave here so I decide to find a seat with more space. Woman with all the bags has already sprawled herself across 3 seats and shady guy in the back argues with me about why I deserve one of his 4 territorial seats. Finally we´re on the road again and I have a better seat, but the drivers are obviously lost. They stop to ask anyone they can find. They are growing more frustrated and we Americans are in disbelief at their inability to execute the job we paid them a ridiculous amount to do.
I pull out my road map of Argetina and Frank grabs his compass - we make a statement by passing them to the drivers and suggesting they use them. They thanks us and still continue to pull u-turns.
It´s been 22 hours now.
Frank and I ask ourselves how much longer these guys can consciously operate the vehicle.
We seem to have found the right road. Cruising, dark, and fucking cold again.
Frank is now watching them like a hawk, making sure they can follow through. Older driver (The Count) is looking tired now and nodding in and out of consciousness. Frank awakens the other driver (Sleepyhead) to tell him that the count looks tired. The Count and Sleepyhead argue.
Sleepyhead "you look tired"
The Count "I´m not tired"
Sleepyhead "your eyes look tired"
The Count "really?"
Sleepyhead grabs the rearview mirror that has fallen off and looks at his eyes while he weaves in and out of lanes.
They switch positions.
Everyone drifts to sleep except Frank who awakens me with a clap directed at the Sleepyhead who has nodded off at the wheel and drifted into the next lane. Now I´m wide awake and tell Shady guy next to me that the driver needs sleep. Shady guy makes his way to the front and begins talking to Sleepyhead in an effort to keep him awake. The count, who should be awake, is crashed out in the other front seat.
Sleepyhead is still falling asleep at the wheel while trying to hold a conversation with Shady guy.
In a final act of desperation Sleepyhead rolls down the window to let the frigid air in to keep him awake. He swerves again, pulls over, wakes up The Count, they switch.
26 hours now.
The Count takes over with confidence, but looking absolutely miserable. Sleepyhead crawls in back and lays next to jacket lady. I can hear his teeth chattering.
Frank and I hold onto consciousness by joking and finally roll into mendoza at 4 in the morning.
32 hours start to finish.
We go to two different hostels that are both full. Finally find one that's open and crawl into bed while listening to British guys throw up in the bathroom.
Tommorow we go to a vineyard.

Frank, Zach, and I arrived in Valparaiso on Friday afternoon after a short bus ride from Santiago. Valparaiso is a relatively small city set on the Pacific coast - it was a boom town that shipped massive amounts of grain to the california coast during the gold rush. A huge earthquake hit here at about the same time the panama canal opened - both of these events marked the downslide of the town.
Now it is a UNESCO world heritage sight. The town clings to the hills that drop steeply to the ocean and it´s houses are brightly colored with the leftover paints of ships.
When we arrived at the bus station we walked about a mile to a hostel run by a local family. It´s an old building set just off the plaza of justice. It was musky but cheap. We walked around the hills the rest of the day and found a nice spot to watch the massive ships get loaded up.
Later that night, we befriended the sons of the owner of the hostel who took us a few blocks to a local dance club. Frank and I were enjoying taking pictures and cutting rugs.
The club emptied out into the street at 4 in the morning. At first I couldn´t find Frank so I began to walk back to the hostel alone. After a few blocks I saw a figure crouched on the steps of a small business - Frank.
I sat down next to him and chatted. As we were sitting a man came up from behind me and pushed something into my back which I assumed to be a knife. I immediately stood up and began to jabber an endlesss string of phrases like "ok, ok yeah yeah I know what you need" "sure I´ll give you some money." I reached to my wallet, which I had prepared for this situation by filling it with lots of ones and expired calling cards, and gave him four dollars. This seemed to calm him a bit, but he then demanded more from me and stood closer to frank.
The knife was gone - I grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and threw him from the steps into the street and pounced on his chest and began to deliver as many punches as possible.
He screached a bit, got to his feet, and ran off.
Frank and I quickly began to walk back to the hostel which was only a few blocks away. We chatted about how lucky we were. We climbed the long staircase to the top and Frank began to fiddle with the difficult door lock when two men came up from behind and pressed an actual knife to Frank´s face. We both began our "jabber like a monkey" strategy to buy time. They scoured frank´s body with their hands and managed to get his decoy wallet from his jacket. Before anything more happened the owner poked head her out the window to see what was happening. This scared them off.
We went inside and went to bed.

Frank and Zach arrived yesterday in Santiago after a long bus ride from the atacama desert in northern Chile. I was laying in bed early in the morning in the hostel when I heard the distinctive voices of the Kearl brothers outside my window.
We awkwardly exchanged greetings, all of us surprised to see one another so far from Texas.
We grabbed some breakfast and began to trek the large, forested hill in the center of town to catch a nice view of the city. On our way up, five stray dogs befriended us and shadowed our every move - sometimes barking and nearly attacking other hikers but never giving us trouble. We were like 3 pied pipers.
We reached the top and it began to rain.
After the hike we went to an free art museum and walked around the city.
Later that evening we ventured out to the city´s abundant bars to try and catch Spurs/Lakers playoff game - thinking that surely in this city of 4 million some establishment would have it.....no dice.
It´s quite nice to have some friends along now - makes everything easier and more enjoyable.

P.S. For the past three nights now I´ve layed awake in my hostel bunk bed listening to the people in the above room have sex. It´s quite off-putting.

I arrived in Santiago after a 27 hour bus ride from Buenos Aires. The trip should of taken much less time but while crossing the Andes we ran into a blizzard. I think I missed the page in the guidebook that said "be sure to check the weather before you try to cross."
After driving 17 hours from Buenos Aires, the landscape begin to shift from relatively flat grasslands, to foothills, to earthy red, barren mountains like northern new mexico. As we begin to ascend we watched hollywood movies and music videos including the Rock´s "The Game Plan" and my favorite "The Macarena."
As we neared the top the bus stopped and sat for 5 hours to allow a blizzard to pass.
We finally reached customs control at the summit of the mountain pass and the chilean guards took my can of garbanzo beans.
Santiago is beautiful, rainy, and downright modern.