cesar

Meet Cesar.

You see, I’m practicing for Nablopomo, and so while feeling stumped for a topic for tonight, or at least like I am not in the mood to choose something and be serious about it, I feel like I should push through that. Having posted a music video last night, I’d better not post another one tonight, so I found myself going through pictures I already have hosted online. Why not, right? There’s got to be a story in there.

As it happens, I was already on a gallery page from a trip I took while in Argentina. I’d stayed a couple days in Mendoza, wine country, and took a day trip up to the alta montaรฑa. I’d mentioned the trip to someone at the youth hostel I was staying at, and he was interested in coming along. And so he did.

That was Cesar, a Barcelonean juggler who thankfully spoke enough english he could mostly translate where my spanish failed (which was most everywhere). The tour guide munched on coca leaves as we got into the upper altitudes, coca y bica being an old folk remedy for helping adjust to altitude changes. I think we gained a mile in altitude that day. I certainly had a fuzzy brain! And I still had my mile-high adjusted blood flow from living in Denver at the time. Okay, I’ll look up the details.

Right, so this is why I kept that guide book (Lonely Planet being my favorite), because I can’t remember these details. It was apparently almost 4000m above sea level by the time we got to Christo Redentor, a monument signifying something significant in Chilean-Argentinian relations, and thus being in the middle of nowhere on the border between Chile and Argentina. I suppose I could claim that I set foot in Chile.

Cesar didn’t have a camera, or maybe his camera had a dead battery. He had me take a couple pictures with him in it. I had his email address and I was to email the pictures to him when I got home. This picture has, I believe Cerro Aconcagua in the background, a rather famous mountain climbing ascent, for which there is a somewhat dedicated cemetery nearby.

I came home from that trip with many email addresses, and even heard from one or two people afterwards. Actually, I’ve kept in close touch with one of the women I was almost arrested with in Buenos Aires (dancing is illegal in bars in Buenos Aires, who woulda thunk? But I can say that I have danced on top of a bar at least once in my life, so *whew* that’s one thing checked off the list!), but alas, I lost exactly one email address, and that was Cesar’s.

So, Cesar, if you somehow google just the right terms to end up here at my blog, apologies for losing your email address!

Here’s a picture of Cesar in front of the Christo Redentor. It was freeezing up there, and that was summertime!

cesar christo redentor

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