Leaving Uruguay was hard. The night before we left, the sunset spilled warmly onto the river's horizon. Children giggled as they slid down a hill on cardboard boxes. The next day we woke up early to make the most of our day before our ferry back to Buenos Aires. How can such old world charm still be alive and well today? I'm not sure, but I'm not complaining. What I loved so much about Colonia wasn't one thing in particular. It wasn't the calm waters of the Rio, which surroun
It was all Natascia's idea. Weeks before flying to Argentina, my friend had already decided we would visit one of the oldest towns in Uruguay. She needed to leave the country before her 90-day visa expired and heading to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, was a popular way to do so. Natascia asked if I would tag along to see what she described as an historic, charming town. Affascinante, she'd say in Italian. I agreed to go but didn't think about it much. I figured it would be
I barely remember my first day in Argentina. I remember hugging my friend who met me in the lobby of her apartment building in funky pajamas; I remember flopping onto a blow-up mattress in exhaustion; I remember waking up to grey skies and a bleak cityscape. I didn't feel inspired. I felt uncomfortable and slightly disappointed. My anxiety was at a high. I'm a cranky traveler. Whenever I finish a long trip, the last thing I want to do is *appreciate* everything around me. I j
"This is a mistake. I'm making a mistake." These were my first thoughts as I woke up the morning I left for Argentina. Not exactly the conventional giddiness one usually gets the day they're set to go on a trip somewhere, but I've never been a totally normal person. I remember the pit in the my stomach as I woke up March 20th. I had barely slept the night before, tossing and turning, my mind racing about all the ways this could go horribly wrong. That's anxiety for you. It's
I'm Raquel. A 25-year-old Yale grad from New Jersey who recently quit a job in TV to see more of the world.