“Como es que llegaste aca?”

“How, exactly, did you end up here?”

It was Alejandro with the funny zig-zag mustache who put it all in perspective last night. He was across from me at a table of folks from different parts of Argentina (Mendoza Province, Buenos Aires Province, here in Rio Negro) digging into the fondue-like dinner of baña cauda. Once he got his head around who I was (the wife of the son of the German guy at the end of the table) he was intrigued. I don’t think Ale’d ever met a Canadian before, although he did say he had a cousin or someone living in Mission, B.C. (!).

How did I end up here? Sometimes I forget where I am, just how remarkable it is that I am here. The reason I am here in Patagonia is simple: love. I wouldn’t put myself through agonizing hours of tramites (bureaucracy) for no reason. I think love is a good reason. Although it’s not like I followed a man down here - or is it? I first toured Patagonia in 1997 after completing my studies at McGill University. It was an epic multi-month backpacking trip and when I strolled into the Lake District, I discovered the unique mixture of recognition (that this place looks like home) and fascination (that I was actually far, far from home) that sold me on this corner of the world. I have loved it here since day 1, although it was years later that I returned.

On a rainy night in the deep jungles of the Pacuare River, a man I didn’t know was cooking underneath a thatched roof. I chatted with the other folks nearby and wondered who the unknown and cute chef was. The next instant, this chef was in front of me, introduced himself ….. and I was a goner. When he told me he was from this part of the world that had so enchanted me years earlier, I recognized a kindred spirit.

Mi marido’s love for the mountains of Patagonia is undeniable and something I would never challenge. I know I am lucky, however, that he is also fond of my land, of my country. I have other friends here who are foreign women married to local mountain guides (subject of future blog….) and they’re hubbies aren’t going anywhere. The two of us are fortunate to be together in a constant ebb and flo of living between two worlds. It’d oh so lonely to be sola in this ride.

So I told Ale and his wife La Colo (the redhead - I never learned her real name) the story of our meeting half-way, in the middle of the Americas. I’ve told it so many times. “You have no family here?” Yes, I told him, I have my husband and his family. “But no family of your own?” Well, if you put it that way… no. My family is on the other side of the hemisphere. Ale’s puzzlement reminded me just how remarkable my life is.

Then they took out a pen and paper and wrote their address so I could look them up if I ever make it to the remote Mendozan town of Malargue (I just got back from Mendoza and Malargue didn’t make the itinerary this time). And we planned what we’d do there. If I gave them notice, they’d have an asado. And suddenly the extraordinary series of events that brought me here , the amazing destiny that guides my life, the force of nature,…. it all disappeared again and we were just new friends having dinner in Bariloche planning a barbecue. The Argentine way of enjoying life at its simplist, most inclusive. I am at home.