People

     I fear El Calafate will go unwritten about.  Other than Moreno Glacier there is not much to do in this small town.  It was the hostel i Keu Ken that caused me to stay for Christmas and it was the hostel that caused me to go back for New Years.  There is nothing like the wonder of people to make you fall in love with a place.  Ruins, glaciers, spires and salt flats are wonderous and they deserve to be seen but people are where the magic is.  People are why we wander.  Friendship is to be coveted like our National Parks.  Spend a few months without it and you´ll appreciate it all the more.  I think even the lonely would agree.  Those who long to be lost in solitude for long periods of time still want their story told.  A story unto itself is a summer solstace without a harvest.  We want to be heard.  Alexander Supertramp died next to this realization.  What a chaotic and mystic journey he must have had to reach that conclusion.  Right now words are pouring from me but a Rottweiler has taken to my side and I feel more compelled to pet him than right about my experiences.

My steak is ready and the owner hustles me inside.  I´ve asked for jugoso (rare) and it comes out raw.  The Argentinians cook their meet all the way through and have little sense of temperature.  The old man that owns this place is so sincere I dare not ask for it to be put back on the grill.  With a look of honest pride for his food he asks me how it is.  I smile back with a resounding ´Muy Beuno!´  He has put some Irish music on just for me, mistaking my heritage.  The meat, almost completely raw and cold, will be one the best steaks I have in Argentina.

So goes my final night in El Calafate.

Thanks

i Keu Ken