Ridiculous

We have run out of adjectives.  Completely.

Maybe the best one and only one yet is the one that the a bureau chief for The Economist said when we first got out of the car this morning and saw the white-capped Andes glimmering in the distance and behind us the opening to a canyon that we were about to trek down into.

I said, "Can you believe how beautiful this is?"

He ran his hands through his hair, paused a second and answered, "It's ridiculous."

Andes Mountains

So, ridiculous it is.  It is all we are left with because I don't know how to even describe the beauty that is behind us, before us and above us.

I am worried about what I will have to say about Patagonia, what else is left after ridiculous?

Anyway, we trekked into a deep ravine over and across a mountain stream all morning, with the bureau chief, his wife (a lawyer turned to the IT world) and two of the guys from the New York group from yesterday.  (this resort offers excursions to choose from every day...you can do one full day or two half day excursions with a guide, it is awesome).  We climbed over boulders that were tinged red, black and grey remnants of the volcanic activity that created this landscape (the Andes are one volcano after another).  Our guide, Salvadore, showed us the desert plants (usually, because this is the driest desert, there are no plants, but there were some unusual late summer rains in January and February this year) and taught us to see how the magma flowed and then how the water that runs through it has made the crevices and niches of the area.

While we walked and stumbled through the hike, we talked and got to know our traveling companions a little better.  Everyone in the group has traveled extensively.  The New Yorkers are brothers-in-law who have been traveling every year for the last few with their wives together mostly throughout South America.  They made us laugh with their humor (mostly self-deprecating) and we ended up spending the whole day with them since we went to the second excursion later in the day with them, too (and their wives joined us for that).  The younger couple from Sao Paulo, are originally from Poland, and have lived all over the world and each can speak at least four languages.

We didn't get tired of talking to any of them.  I don't have an adjective either for how rewarding it is to hear a little of other people's stories.  One of my favorite parts of any trip I've ever been on.  Our guide, too, his love of this place and willingness to be patient with our questions and excitement over showing us each thing...awesome.

There is one hiccup to this trip...a problem with my ability to take pictures that Gillian approves of.  My philosophy about picture taking is that I am completely fine with taking 1,000 pictures and accepting that maybe four are good, maybe 1 in 1500 is great.  Gillian, though, like the other digital natives of the younger generation who have grown up breathing technology, keeps trying to instruct me how to get each photo perfect from the beginning.

She sighs, asks me, "Will you please try this time?  Try to take a picture of me with that mountain in the background."  I nod, of course I will do my best, I promise, I have taken all her lessons to heart and THIS time it will be great.  I snap four photos concentrating on where her head is in relation to the top of the frame, is she focused in the picture, is the light right...and I hand her the camera...she sighs again, and shakes her head.

I think she's starting to accept me as I am, though.  However, I think ALL the pictures I take of her look fine.  I can't even tell the difference between the ones she keeps and the ones she rejects.  Seriously, I just am holding out for that one time she says it passes the test.

Later in the day, around 5:30 our time here, we set out on our second expedition.  But, before that, we sat by the pool, of course, because the sky was brilliant blue.  Even if the temp was only 70, the sun was HOT and the UV index was crazy high.   The air is very thin here due to the altitude and the thinning ozone layer, so we doused ourselves in sunscreen and tried to soak up some Vitamin D for a couple of hour before heading out on our next adventure.

We went with the two couples from New York to a little town called Toconao on our way to some vast salt flats (3rd largest in the world behind Salt Lake City's and one in Bolivia) where we hoped to see some flamingos.  The town was four hundred years old, but neat and clean and maintained so well.  We wandered around and through an old church and then a small storefront house with a llama and two sheep in the backyard that the woman who lived there used for the wool that she wove and knit with.  We fed the llama and then walked down an irrigation path to see the vegetation in this part of the oasis, bright green trees and plants everywhere fed by streams the make this small area erupt with color in the vast expanse of sand.

Then, off to the salt flats where we found a whopping two flamingos who weren't even thoughtful enough to stand near one another so we could photograph them like they were a part of a flock.  Oh well, it is nesting season and the many flamingos that normally are here had moved to other parts.  I guess they have that right.

But, the sunset over the Domeyko Range (the mountain range that flanks the western side of this desert region) made the salt flat transform into a watercolor painting flowing up against the Andes on the other side of the valley.  Again, ridiculous.

Gillian is asleep now (it is late, we had dinner at 9:30 and didn't get back to the room until almost 11).    I'll let her describe the cat lady at dinner who entertained us by hunting a kitten that was hiding in the wine racks in the lodge.  We couldn't stop laughing and cheering for her...I'll let Gillian tell it.