Well, my splendid plans to blog from the road didn't really go the way I'd hoped. I didn't realize that I wouldn't have any Internet access on the cruise ship, never having cruised before. So once we left our hotel in Buenos Aires for our flight to Ushuaia, that was pretty much it for me communication-wise for a while. Upon our arrival in Punta Arenas, Chile and subsequent flight to Santiago, bus ride to Valparaiso and various rushings and scurryings about, I found myself either physically, mentally or energetically unable to do much more than scribble my thoughts and impressions as eloquently and with as much detail as I could muster into a journal, which I did keep with the loyalty of the truly muse-pecked.
So!! Additional stuff is yet to come about the trip, which was incredible. Photos will be showing up here, and decsriptions of the few hours in Ushuaia, the good ship Stella Australis, the rounding of Cape Horn and visit to the Cape Horn monument, soccer playing at the bottom of the world, a visit to a long-abandoned settlement, a magical hour with the Aguila Glacier, and the sound of 80,000 pairs of penguins clapping. Braying. Doing what penguins do. Amazing.
Then I will talk about our arrival in Punta Arenas, our flight to Santiago, the bus ride to Valparaiso that almost never was, due to the frightening broken down taxi experience of yours truly with two children and a load of luggage in the middle of the busiest intersection in the heart of Santiago, our unlikely arrival and welcome in Valparaiso into the home of Lydia and her Chilean acrobat/clown/magician boyfriend Angel, and it just gets better and better.
So settle down with a tall glass of jugo de pina and a plate of papas fritas and await the further exploits of yours truly and the rest of the Through My Eyes and Hit and Run History crews, coming soon to a blog near you. This blog, in fact.
AND-- as a special added bonus, I will also announce that I have officially, as of this date, given myself and my life over wholly to the muse of fiction writing, so I will be keeping strange hours, wandering around in even more of a fog than usual, spouting colorful language, bursting into laughter or tears without explanation and generally being as Jen Sexton as I can possibly be until further notice and the emergence of my newest indie fiction blockbuster. Mama needs a new pair of zapatos, baby.
And so,
I remain,
Jen
