Two and a half weeks and we are ready to go!

Our stuff is here. Like right here, in this room, in Ushuaia. Tent (green). Front panniers (orange). Sleeping mat (yellow).  All the things we couldn’t find in Ushuaia...here, right next to us. Thanks to Nina (!!!), Be’s friend from Sydney, who was coming to Ushuaia to guide on the Antarctica tours.  Nina arrived yesterday and everything we need to start biking... it’s right here. 

And it’s been two and a half weeks of waiting. Of breath held somewhere in my body, wondering, “Is this bike trip really going to happen?”  Because two and a half  weeks of dreams saying, “Stop. Wait.” Of running in circles.  Two and a half weeks of up and down San Martin, the main street. In and out of all those Antarctic expedition shops wondering, “Who would ever buy a tent like this?” And, “Well, at least Be found a decent sleeping bag and rain jacket.”  

Two and a half weeks. Of planet, continent, country, city, island of USHUAIA. Currency?  Ushuaian.  Two and a half weeks of morning chats with Be - cloak woman, sexism, racism, housing, friends, past partnerships, talk talk talking back and forth.  Laughing at Lake Acigami, “Yeah, I cant imagine doing this trip with anyone else.”  “I know, spending this much time with you is just easy.”  Good friends from different continents, laughing and crying and dancing to the boom boom boom (beat beat beat, Ushuaians like that steady beat)!  

Two and a half weeks of moving between places, calling the airlines and insurance company, crossing to the other side of the street to avoid barking dogs, waiting in line at the grocery store to buy oranges, crackers, cheese.  Two and a half weeks.  Spanish classes signed up for, Tierra del Fuego National Park ridden to, southern ocean jumped in - freezing - yelping, “Our bike trip is starting!”

Two and a half weeks of questioning. “What is important?”  “Is this bike trip important?”  Reading the Tortilla Curtain and seeing such a clear picture painted of the sadness, ridiculousness of classism, racism, sexism.  “What am I doing here?”  “Why am I doing it?”  Irame, my Spanish teacher, says in Spanish I understand, “it’s so important to leave ones own world.  To see other worlds.  To get a bigger picture.”  I tell her, “exactly, that is a huge part of why I came to South America for this bike trip.”

Two and a half weeks of strolls through town, extra churros in our bag from the fellow at the churro shop, sitting on city steps, watching dogs run and kids play, relaxing in parks where everyone in town seems to come out to do their thing.  Two and a half weeks of partly sunny skies and dry skin and relief, every time, I take in all the mountains surrounding me.  Two and a half weeks of unexpected happenings, trap doors, dead ends. Two missed “bike tour start dates” before finally surrendering. Be saying, “Okay, I guess we just aren’t supposed to leave yet.”

But now all our stuff is here, scattered across this small room where we’ve been staying for the past week.  There is nothing left to wait for.  All we have to do now is pack, breathe, and pedal out of Ushuaia.