Choices

Choices must be made. This is a statement that holds true for everyone. The fate of our journey rests in every detailed decision. With such overwhelming responsibility, Chris and I take matters into our own hands by dictating where we will go and who we will meet with a swift game of Rock Paper Scissors.

In rare cases, direction comes naturally. The Argentine Lake District seems to have magnetic force that continues to draw us in for another visit. Without even needing Paper to cover Rock, we ended up in San Martin de Los Andes; another pristine town settled by a lake and picturesque mountains.

As a vagabond, the perpetual question remains the same: where is our temporary home in this foreign place? Often bus stations are flooded with hostel owners claiming to offer the best deal in town, but after a little unguided exploration in San Martin we selected a quiet hostel to grant us a place to sleep.

By day 2 in the boisterous resort town we made the bold move to forego camping one extra day and pay a few extra pesos for another restful evening with warm beds and an inviting kitchen. Similar to a real home, kitchens in hostels are a place to congregate, share stories, and develop new friendships. Sharing pots and pans suddenly means sharing life stories.

On this particular evening, one other guy had the same decision making process as us. After a few short minutes of sharing a cooking space we quickly learned that he was also from Boston. With this knowledge the conversation spawned into a series of questions that have not been asked in months.

¨I went to Holy Cross,¨ he replied to me as I stood at the kitchen sink. The response stopped me from meal preparation as I stood there in disbelief. My friend Jim had informed me that recent HC grad (and friend of his) had embarked on a similar Patagonian adventure. I paid no close attention to the information, but suddenly Robbie Cocuzzo, class of ´08 was standing with me in the kitchen of some random hostel in some small South American town and we were discussing the slums that we resided in off campus, and the mutual friends that we had in common. BIZARRE.

Also an avid fisher, and fishing guide in Nantucket, Robbie had many important points to discuss with Chris. Instant friendship formed over dinner and some Argentine wine and by the end of the evening we arrived at our next decision: the next day the three of us would head to Lago Lolog to camp and Chris and Robbie would find the best spot to catch Brown Trout.

Slightly over a week later, the setting has changed a few times (currently in Junin but about to hop on a bus to get to nearby National Park Lanin) the company and days of fishing remain the same. Discussions involve terms like wooleybuggers and dry flies. While I keep safe distance on rocks by the river, I could learn a few things from my fly fishing enthusiast friends.

Many decisions remain to be seen, such as what the future will bring. There is discussion of wine fesitivals, waterfalls and eventually possible volunteer work in Bolivia... but for now fishing and friends will fill the days of February.