Sometimes it seems to me as if the reason I've gone to the other side of the world is to ponder topics near and dear to my heart. I have written about memory and death, and of emotions evoked by experiences I encounter here. Alas, lately I have been pondering something I would have loved to avoid: when and why shall I return home.
I have been gone from home for almost five months now. My family and I started this trip together, in Florida, the Caribbean, and New York City. After staying for another two weeks in New York, I left for Buenos Aires, and I have been exploring Chile and Argentina (and Antarctica) ever since late October. I am truly having the trip of my life, at least so far; I have no intentions of this being my last long-term trip. And yet, life holds its cards close to heart, so it may be I am never afforded such an opportunity again. I have seen nature in its glory; hiked mountains beyond mountains; met incredible people from every corner of the globe; ate the food, drank the wine, and experienced the life. I have also delved into emotional thinking (and writing) on levels I have never reached before at home, and I am truly glad I have given myself the opportunity to do so.
If I return home, it will be mostly due to an acknowledgment that real life, the one I left behind, comes first. I applied to universities in Israel, and barring any surprises, will be accepted to all three schools I'm considering going to. Should I choose the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, it would be to study a Mathematics and Cognitive Science double major. In the Technion in Haifa or Tel Aviv University, my major would be Mathematics and Statistics. In the latter two, I am trying my luck with specialty programs: Tel Aviv's Lautman interdisciplinary studies program, and the Technion's excellence program. The problem stems from the fact those two programs want to interview potential students; while I'm not keeping my hopes up for Lautman, I'm quite confident I will be invited for interviews for the Technion's program. The program has quite a few advantages: First and foremost, freedom to choose your own course of studies, picking and choosing from different faculties and ignoring prerequisites. There are also several workshops and programs for the students, and scholarships for tuition and dorms. Lautman is both similar and different, but as I am not nearly as confident about it, I will spare the details.
My studies next year are not the only reason to return home, but they are what triggered the dilemma. Should I return home in late April, I might also take another few weeks to travel in Europe with a friend (I considered it, but I doubt I will fly off on another wholly different trip, such as the far east) I could also resume playing Ultimate, perhaps even in time for Windmill Windup or the European Ultimate Championships, should my knee oblige. Lastly, there is the ever-hanging sword of fiscal responsibility. I certainly could afford traveling until September; however, that would leave my with significantly less money saved for my first year of university. Should I return, I will probably find a job until I start studying, and coupled with the fact I will not be traveling, will result in a significant chunk of money saved.
On the other hand, the main reason not to return, is travel! Returning early means leaving South America in early April, to spend a couple of weeks in California (where I have not set foot since graduating high school back in 2008), and perhaps stop somewhere else in the states, before flying home out of New York City. That leaves me with barely another month with which to explore Argentina and Chile - not nearly enough. I could see more of the south, and perhaps taste the culture of the central regions, and the majestic deserts of the north; but by far and by large, there will be quite a lot left to see.
Without any time limits, I would hitch-hike my way up the Caraterra Austral, stopping a few times to hike in a few recommend hot-spots. I could then explore the island of Chiloe, famed for its wooden buildings and phenomenal seafood, and go climbing and hiking near Bariloche. I would be able to partake in urban and cosmopolitan Chile, visiting Santiago and Valpariaso, and see the wineries of Mendoza. Next I should be able to meet with a good friend from home, and meet up to see the magnificent deserts of northern Chile and Argentina. Beyond that, there are a great many other things to see, places to visit, and mountains to trek. To the north looms Bolivia, and its vastly different lifestyle and nature. Beyond that, Peru, with many more mountain ranges that yearn to be thoroughly hiked, and the cultural magic of the Inca. Further yet, Ecuador, and the opportunity to visit another of nature's marvels, the Galapagos Islands.
Moreover, a longer trip would leave me with more time in the states - freeing me to spend a few weeks to a month in California (and perhaps even longer - John Muir Trail, anyone?), and then perhaps make my way up the west coast, to see Portland, Seattle, friends, and natural treasures, before making my way home in time from the school year. Essentially, the opportunity to make an amazing trip even more exciting and fulfilling.
To summarize: on one hand, university programs, ultimate, short term travel, and fiscal responsibility. On the other, the opportunity to see even more of this splendid world, continue enjoying its glory, and grow and evolve with it. Which one shall it be?
Friday, February 27, 2015
Thursday, February 19, 2015
An Emotional Rollercoaster As a Function
I'm currently volunteering in Torres del Paine national park, in Chilean Patagonia (I might actually have just finished my time there, but that's a whole other matter). The first couple of days of the shift I just finished were a hectic mess. The type of shitstorm possibly only when hormones, emotions, the Arctic Monkeys, and character traits (or flaws) get mixed up.
Part I: Increasing / Concave Up (first derivative positive, second derivative positive)
Suggested listening: I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor
I met her on the first night of the ship, sitting outside in the cooking area in camp. I went over to chat with a couple of Americans I remembered from the check-in to the campsite, and she was there too. At some point, an hour or two later, travel plans were discussed, and I mentioned that once I'm done in the park I'll probably head up north to Calafate and Chalten, a few hours away on the other side of the border with Argentina. She said that's exactly where she wants to go, and was hoping to find someone else to hitch-hike there with, as she (understandably) felt iffy about doing it alone. We chatted about it for another while, and as she had split of from her friends and was in no hurry to leave, we agreed to talk about it more the next morning.
The next day and a half were quite blissful. As she set up her tents next to mine, we both realized it's only for appearance's sake, even of those appearances were intended for her subconscious. We spent much of those days together, and it was quite comfortable and easy. The physical part was great, but it felt a bit more than that. The conversation was just very open and honesty, and I told her things I feel most people don't know about me. It felt good.
In retrospect, here's potential misstep number one. I cared. I care easily. While I don't have a trouble with casual sex, or just hooking up, especially if it's been established as that's where we're going. On the other hand, I still care about a woman more after sleeping with her. I generally grow fond of women somewhat easily and carelessly, and allow myself to build houses of cards in my mind. I easily saw myself traveling with her for a week, or maybe even a month, and having a blast. I got excited. It wasn't the first time this has happened to me, and probably won't be the last. Honestly, it's not that I don't want to care. I'd rather care than be disconnected, and feel it's a huge part of being human, and being me. On the other hand, maybe I need to be more gradual or reserved about it. I can't say I'm sure.
I remember telling her that "it won't always be this fun and easy, but we should try to remember how this feels now, for when the going gets harder." Fore, meet shadow.
Part II: Increasing / Concave Down (first derivative positive, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: Fluorescent Adolescent
The evening of the next day, two Israeli girls came by with Jungle Speed. As you've probably never heard of it, it's an addictively fast card game, based on pattern matching and quickness of hand. As they played, I came and went, as I was busy baking bread, of all things - apparently I'm not bad at it. I noticed she was pretty friendly, possible flirty, with another American who joined the card game.
Here comes my second error. I let jealousy rear its ugly head. Even at the moment, I could tell myself on how many levels that's absolutely absurd. I've only know this woman for two days - as intensive as they might be, two days are still forty-eight hours. Beyond that, she was being excited and bubbly and nice, which are some of the qualities that led me to like her at first place. Further, when I think about it rationally, I'm very much opposed to jealousy. I truly want to give an open (or perhaps even poly) relationship a try, both to see how I like it, and perhaps to learn to work through some of these faults of mine. I'm not sure I could or should be the be-all-end-all object of someone's desires, and feel I have enough emotion to sustain more than one relationship.
I caught myself feeling it, and getting a little bit more touchy-feely than I should have. Once I realized what I'm doing, I excused myself, and recomposed. I realized I'm being ridiculous, and noted in my head to talk to her about it tomorrow. I felt that with how comfortable and easy our conversation has been, maybe she could help me work through it, and call me out on my nonsense. (You could argue this was another mistake, and I should have dealt with it by myself, but I believe in sharing and dealing together.)
Later that night, the other park rangers and us played quite a bit of cards. We also might have not been entirely sober. After several rounds of 'come-mierda' (the local version of 'asshole', played with the Spanish cards), and more drinking of all kinds, I was getting ready to call it a night. I could blame my possible lack of sobriety, but I'd be giving myself the easy way out - I mentioned to her that I want to talk to her about something, and that she should remind me tomorrow. I imagine we can all see where this is going: she insisted I tell her tonight, I wasn't wise enough to insist otherwise, and I told her. She seemed very understanding, and said she did notice I was acting oddly earlier. She told me that we'll talk tomorrow, and I should go to sleep if I'm tired, and she'll be over soon.
Part III: Decreasing / Concave Down (first derivative negative, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: Snap Out Of It
It rained all night.
I woke up in my tent around six in the morning, alone, with my glasses still on. I remembered that I read for a while after getting back in, with my light still on, as I thought she might not have a light, and it would help her find her way in. Naïve up until the last moment.
As I woke up, the range of options ran through my head. Did she sleep in her tent? But her sleeping bag was in mine. Did she end up crashing in the house? I hope she didn't sleep on the floor. But where did she sleep? I stopped dealing with that train of thought, but nonetheless didn't fall back asleep. An hour or so later she came in, and told me she slept in the bed with another one of the guys. And made out with him.
I can't say I was angry. I truly wasn't. I was hurt though. After pondering it for a while, I realized it was because it came exactly after I told her about my slight jealous streak. I showed a vulnerability, and instead of receiving support, I got the exact opposite. I'm very open and candid, apparently at times to a fault.
She took a walk, and so did I, end I ended up talking about it with one of the Israelis from the night before. The Israeli was very kind and listened, and gave some well-needed advice, until at some point she came back. We went off to talk. She was very, very sorry, and talked about how she hurts before she gets hurt, how she says she hates drama, but just created a load of it, how she felt we were just hooking up, and more... I listened, and I understood, especially when she kept talking about how crazy she is, and her sexual history... I was hurt, and understanding, but I wasn't angry. I tried to understand, and as awkward as it was, I never asked her to leave or disappear,.
I talked to the other rangers, and they implored me to just put it behind it and leave it be. I'm pretty sure they also didn't understand about how I was so un-angry about the whole thing; it was certainly not the Chilean way to handle it.
Part IV: Decreasing / Concave Up (first derivative positive, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: 505
I guess I might be somewhat of an emotional masochist, as I still saw myself traveling with her afterwards. It would have never been what it could have been at first, but I still saw it as being fun. I certainly would have learned something about myself from it.
The days afterwards were increasingly less awkward, as eventually one of her original friends also made it and stuck around with us for a few days. Apparently she's not the only source of drama - he broke up with his girlfriend of two years on the trail, and left her and her two friends. We played cards, cooked together, and generally lived together for those few days, and at some point it became less and less awkward.
It's interesting that it didn't make me run, or hate her, or get vengeful. I'm happy about that about myself. I feel that if we each only got one chance in life, nothing could ever succeed, and that it she's still a very interesting person. Crazy, but interesting.
Addendum I
I'll probably write about it more separately, but I've worked very hard over the past few years to develop an inner locus of control. It suits me incredibly well when doing things by myself - I don't think I would have successfully rehabbed from two knee surgeries (another topic for another time) if I didn't fully and truly believe that enough hard work will get me through. With emotional matters, though, the line is finer, as to whether or not that's positive or negative. Rationally, I understand this isn't my fault, at least not wholly and entirely. On the other hand, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe had I not had that jealous streak, or had I waited to talk about it, or had I not cared, who knows where we'd be. That's life, though, isn't it?
Maybe I'm hard on myself so other people don't have to be? I wish I knew.
Addendum II
Up until now, I wasn't sure I'll post it. It's highly ridiculous and deeply personal, and exposes more character flaws than I entirely feel comfortable with. I do want to learn and grow from it, and I felt it was a good writing experience, so on it goes. A week later, I guess the best way to describe how I feel about it would be to paraphrase the ending of Ocean's Eleven: I'm not sad about it, but I'm sure as shit ain't happy about how it turned out. It is a rather ridiculous story though, and in retrospect quite hilarious, so at least we've got that going.
Part I: Increasing / Concave Up (first derivative positive, second derivative positive)
Suggested listening: I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor
I met her on the first night of the ship, sitting outside in the cooking area in camp. I went over to chat with a couple of Americans I remembered from the check-in to the campsite, and she was there too. At some point, an hour or two later, travel plans were discussed, and I mentioned that once I'm done in the park I'll probably head up north to Calafate and Chalten, a few hours away on the other side of the border with Argentina. She said that's exactly where she wants to go, and was hoping to find someone else to hitch-hike there with, as she (understandably) felt iffy about doing it alone. We chatted about it for another while, and as she had split of from her friends and was in no hurry to leave, we agreed to talk about it more the next morning.
The next day and a half were quite blissful. As she set up her tents next to mine, we both realized it's only for appearance's sake, even of those appearances were intended for her subconscious. We spent much of those days together, and it was quite comfortable and easy. The physical part was great, but it felt a bit more than that. The conversation was just very open and honesty, and I told her things I feel most people don't know about me. It felt good.
In retrospect, here's potential misstep number one. I cared. I care easily. While I don't have a trouble with casual sex, or just hooking up, especially if it's been established as that's where we're going. On the other hand, I still care about a woman more after sleeping with her. I generally grow fond of women somewhat easily and carelessly, and allow myself to build houses of cards in my mind. I easily saw myself traveling with her for a week, or maybe even a month, and having a blast. I got excited. It wasn't the first time this has happened to me, and probably won't be the last. Honestly, it's not that I don't want to care. I'd rather care than be disconnected, and feel it's a huge part of being human, and being me. On the other hand, maybe I need to be more gradual or reserved about it. I can't say I'm sure.
I remember telling her that "it won't always be this fun and easy, but we should try to remember how this feels now, for when the going gets harder." Fore, meet shadow.
Part II: Increasing / Concave Down (first derivative positive, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: Fluorescent Adolescent
The evening of the next day, two Israeli girls came by with Jungle Speed. As you've probably never heard of it, it's an addictively fast card game, based on pattern matching and quickness of hand. As they played, I came and went, as I was busy baking bread, of all things - apparently I'm not bad at it. I noticed she was pretty friendly, possible flirty, with another American who joined the card game.
Here comes my second error. I let jealousy rear its ugly head. Even at the moment, I could tell myself on how many levels that's absolutely absurd. I've only know this woman for two days - as intensive as they might be, two days are still forty-eight hours. Beyond that, she was being excited and bubbly and nice, which are some of the qualities that led me to like her at first place. Further, when I think about it rationally, I'm very much opposed to jealousy. I truly want to give an open (or perhaps even poly) relationship a try, both to see how I like it, and perhaps to learn to work through some of these faults of mine. I'm not sure I could or should be the be-all-end-all object of someone's desires, and feel I have enough emotion to sustain more than one relationship.
I caught myself feeling it, and getting a little bit more touchy-feely than I should have. Once I realized what I'm doing, I excused myself, and recomposed. I realized I'm being ridiculous, and noted in my head to talk to her about it tomorrow. I felt that with how comfortable and easy our conversation has been, maybe she could help me work through it, and call me out on my nonsense. (You could argue this was another mistake, and I should have dealt with it by myself, but I believe in sharing and dealing together.)
Later that night, the other park rangers and us played quite a bit of cards. We also might have not been entirely sober. After several rounds of 'come-mierda' (the local version of 'asshole', played with the Spanish cards), and more drinking of all kinds, I was getting ready to call it a night. I could blame my possible lack of sobriety, but I'd be giving myself the easy way out - I mentioned to her that I want to talk to her about something, and that she should remind me tomorrow. I imagine we can all see where this is going: she insisted I tell her tonight, I wasn't wise enough to insist otherwise, and I told her. She seemed very understanding, and said she did notice I was acting oddly earlier. She told me that we'll talk tomorrow, and I should go to sleep if I'm tired, and she'll be over soon.
Part III: Decreasing / Concave Down (first derivative negative, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: Snap Out Of It
It rained all night.
I woke up in my tent around six in the morning, alone, with my glasses still on. I remembered that I read for a while after getting back in, with my light still on, as I thought she might not have a light, and it would help her find her way in. Naïve up until the last moment.
As I woke up, the range of options ran through my head. Did she sleep in her tent? But her sleeping bag was in mine. Did she end up crashing in the house? I hope she didn't sleep on the floor. But where did she sleep? I stopped dealing with that train of thought, but nonetheless didn't fall back asleep. An hour or so later she came in, and told me she slept in the bed with another one of the guys. And made out with him.
I can't say I was angry. I truly wasn't. I was hurt though. After pondering it for a while, I realized it was because it came exactly after I told her about my slight jealous streak. I showed a vulnerability, and instead of receiving support, I got the exact opposite. I'm very open and candid, apparently at times to a fault.
She took a walk, and so did I, end I ended up talking about it with one of the Israelis from the night before. The Israeli was very kind and listened, and gave some well-needed advice, until at some point she came back. We went off to talk. She was very, very sorry, and talked about how she hurts before she gets hurt, how she says she hates drama, but just created a load of it, how she felt we were just hooking up, and more... I listened, and I understood, especially when she kept talking about how crazy she is, and her sexual history... I was hurt, and understanding, but I wasn't angry. I tried to understand, and as awkward as it was, I never asked her to leave or disappear,.
I talked to the other rangers, and they implored me to just put it behind it and leave it be. I'm pretty sure they also didn't understand about how I was so un-angry about the whole thing; it was certainly not the Chilean way to handle it.
Part IV: Decreasing / Concave Up (first derivative positive, second derivative negative)
Suggested listening: 505
I guess I might be somewhat of an emotional masochist, as I still saw myself traveling with her afterwards. It would have never been what it could have been at first, but I still saw it as being fun. I certainly would have learned something about myself from it.
The days afterwards were increasingly less awkward, as eventually one of her original friends also made it and stuck around with us for a few days. Apparently she's not the only source of drama - he broke up with his girlfriend of two years on the trail, and left her and her two friends. We played cards, cooked together, and generally lived together for those few days, and at some point it became less and less awkward.
It's interesting that it didn't make me run, or hate her, or get vengeful. I'm happy about that about myself. I feel that if we each only got one chance in life, nothing could ever succeed, and that it she's still a very interesting person. Crazy, but interesting.
Addendum I
I'll probably write about it more separately, but I've worked very hard over the past few years to develop an inner locus of control. It suits me incredibly well when doing things by myself - I don't think I would have successfully rehabbed from two knee surgeries (another topic for another time) if I didn't fully and truly believe that enough hard work will get me through. With emotional matters, though, the line is finer, as to whether or not that's positive or negative. Rationally, I understand this isn't my fault, at least not wholly and entirely. On the other hand, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that maybe had I not had that jealous streak, or had I waited to talk about it, or had I not cared, who knows where we'd be. That's life, though, isn't it?
Maybe I'm hard on myself so other people don't have to be? I wish I knew.
Addendum II
Up until now, I wasn't sure I'll post it. It's highly ridiculous and deeply personal, and exposes more character flaws than I entirely feel comfortable with. I do want to learn and grow from it, and I felt it was a good writing experience, so on it goes. A week later, I guess the best way to describe how I feel about it would be to paraphrase the ending of Ocean's Eleven: I'm not sad about it, but I'm sure as shit ain't happy about how it turned out. It is a rather ridiculous story though, and in retrospect quite hilarious, so at least we've got that going.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
Falling in love with Isla Navarino
When I head out traveling, I heard I would run into places I'd simply fall in love with. No one seemed able to describe the sensation very clearly (akin perhaps to real love, which I can't say I'm sure I've ever experienced either). The quote by former supreme court justice Potter Stewart (which I generally love - the quote, not the justice) comes to mind: "I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description [hard-core pornography]; and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it." Understandably, I hadn't much of a clue what they were talking about, and at times being quite cynical, I wasn't sure that I'd experience such a feeling. I thought it might be for more emotional, softer people. Well, I was wrong. I absolutely loved Isla Navarino.
Isla Navarino is a Chilean island, on the southern side of the Beagle Channel. If it's not Chile's southernmost inhabited island, it's certainly the southern-most one that's still reasonably easy to reach, accessible through public transportation both form Ushuaia (in Argentina) and Punta Arenas (in Chile). We arrived on a thirty-minute zodiac ride, followed by the most relaxed boarder control I've ever seen - quite literally a house in the middle of nowhere, where two families live, the man from one of whom checked our passports. After a short wait, we then took a van to the largest city of the island, a sprawling metropolis of all of two thousand people (about half of whom are members of the Chilean armada).
One of the reasons I loved the island has to do with little more than sheer luck. As we asked in the tourist information (a shockingly well-run affair for an island of this size) about hostels, explaining our preference as "the cheapest", we were given two options, One of them was a tiny bit closer and about $1 a night cheaper, so that's where we started. In a brilliant stroke of good fortune, that place happened to be my favorite hostel on the trip, at least so far. Refugio El Padrino is run by a lovely woman named Cecilia, who simply makes you feel like you've arrived to visit a long-lost aunt. She knows everyone by first-name basis, but also as "mi amigo de Israel." She starts every morning with a trip to the hostel, about two minutes from her house, to check on everyone, but generally matters are left to run on their own. Breakfast included eggs (already a real treat coming from a land where cereal and bread with manjar often qualify), and we were left to cook them as we liked. We were allowed to camp outside, access all of the facilities, and pay as much as we felt is appropriate.
Beyond all of that, it was the feeling she created among us that just made it such a home. The love she had for all of us made us feel as a family, and we treated each other as friends. Food was shared, as was beer, wine, or anything stronger that we happened to buy. Card games were played, as stories from the treks on the island and before were regaled. Christmas dinner (my first ever, in fact) was at her house, her family of four and fifteen hostel guests. She later threw an eighth birthday party for the place, essentially throwing a free barbecue for everyone. The lack of wi-fi probably also helped; internet on the island, as it turns out, only exists in four places: the museum, the library, the bar, and a restaurant. The first was especially appropriate, as it was about as rapid as what I had at home in the late 90's (hello, ISDN!).
Beyond all of that, the trekking was also phenomenal. The differences to where I'm currently spending time (Torres del Paine (TdP) national park) are simply astounding. We left for the trek with a booklet (supremely useful, and actually published by the state), a topographical map, and a compass, and still spent quite a bit of time wondering where the route goes and what they actually intended us to do. On the other hand, in TdP we had a map, but it was nary needed - the sheer amount of people walking the trails guided us quite well. Campsites were generally of the "previous hikers have found reasonably dry, reasonably flat areas, and there's water nearby." Camping in TdP felt like a five-star hotel, in comparison (albeit one with too many rules). The free campsites have toilets and organized cooking areas, while the paid ones have hot showers, stores, and some even have restaurants. In Isla Navarino, we'd run into ten or twenty people each hike. Over a four to five day hike, that is. In some places in Torres del Paine you could encounter that many in, oh, a few minutes. And we could have campfires. Campfires make everything better.
Nature there is simply wild. Raw. Primal. The views from the circuit itself are stunning, and the mountains are just gorgeous. Simply nothing man-made was to be seen, except for the occasional marking pylon, and one generally-un-maintained refugio (which was actually in quite a good condition as a French man has been living there for over a month when we visited). The weather was also quite harsh - we slogged through a day of on-and-off snow on one trek, and spent another day hiding in our tents from non-stop rain.
The island features two main treks, which diverge a day or so in. The famous of the two is the Dientes Circuit - anywhere between three and five days' worth of hiking, depending on your pace and the weather. The second is the trek to Lago Windhond and back. The Dientes Circuit was the more impressive of the two, for me, and the trail was slightly better, and especially less muddy. The mountain passes (out of five, the first two are shared) were more impressive, although maybe the island's best panoramic views, from Cerro Bertinelli, were only seen as part of the trek to Windhond. It would be quite possible to combine the two, and either do one longer circuit, or tack on the side-trip to Bertinelli from the Dientes. Either way - the hiking is stupendous. and is quite probably my favorite on the trip (thus far).
As for how falling in love with a place felt, well, I'm not quite sure I can describe it either. Something between how nice the people were, how marvelous the hiking was, and the atmosphere at the hostel I was staying at, just made me have love waking up there every morning I was there. That, and the wonderful people I was hiking with, is how I ended up spending almost three weeks somewhere most people spend about a week.
A word of advice: if you're ever heading over, give yourself a few days of leniency. You might want to wait for a better weather window, the boats might not be running due to high currents, or the flights might all be booked. It is, after all, the end of the world.
Isla Navarino is a Chilean island, on the southern side of the Beagle Channel. If it's not Chile's southernmost inhabited island, it's certainly the southern-most one that's still reasonably easy to reach, accessible through public transportation both form Ushuaia (in Argentina) and Punta Arenas (in Chile). We arrived on a thirty-minute zodiac ride, followed by the most relaxed boarder control I've ever seen - quite literally a house in the middle of nowhere, where two families live, the man from one of whom checked our passports. After a short wait, we then took a van to the largest city of the island, a sprawling metropolis of all of two thousand people (about half of whom are members of the Chilean armada).
One of the reasons I loved the island has to do with little more than sheer luck. As we asked in the tourist information (a shockingly well-run affair for an island of this size) about hostels, explaining our preference as "the cheapest", we were given two options, One of them was a tiny bit closer and about $1 a night cheaper, so that's where we started. In a brilliant stroke of good fortune, that place happened to be my favorite hostel on the trip, at least so far. Refugio El Padrino is run by a lovely woman named Cecilia, who simply makes you feel like you've arrived to visit a long-lost aunt. She knows everyone by first-name basis, but also as "mi amigo de Israel." She starts every morning with a trip to the hostel, about two minutes from her house, to check on everyone, but generally matters are left to run on their own. Breakfast included eggs (already a real treat coming from a land where cereal and bread with manjar often qualify), and we were left to cook them as we liked. We were allowed to camp outside, access all of the facilities, and pay as much as we felt is appropriate.
Beyond all of that, it was the feeling she created among us that just made it such a home. The love she had for all of us made us feel as a family, and we treated each other as friends. Food was shared, as was beer, wine, or anything stronger that we happened to buy. Card games were played, as stories from the treks on the island and before were regaled. Christmas dinner (my first ever, in fact) was at her house, her family of four and fifteen hostel guests. She later threw an eighth birthday party for the place, essentially throwing a free barbecue for everyone. The lack of wi-fi probably also helped; internet on the island, as it turns out, only exists in four places: the museum, the library, the bar, and a restaurant. The first was especially appropriate, as it was about as rapid as what I had at home in the late 90's (hello, ISDN!).
Beyond all of that, the trekking was also phenomenal. The differences to where I'm currently spending time (Torres del Paine (TdP) national park) are simply astounding. We left for the trek with a booklet (supremely useful, and actually published by the state), a topographical map, and a compass, and still spent quite a bit of time wondering where the route goes and what they actually intended us to do. On the other hand, in TdP we had a map, but it was nary needed - the sheer amount of people walking the trails guided us quite well. Campsites were generally of the "previous hikers have found reasonably dry, reasonably flat areas, and there's water nearby." Camping in TdP felt like a five-star hotel, in comparison (albeit one with too many rules). The free campsites have toilets and organized cooking areas, while the paid ones have hot showers, stores, and some even have restaurants. In Isla Navarino, we'd run into ten or twenty people each hike. Over a four to five day hike, that is. In some places in Torres del Paine you could encounter that many in, oh, a few minutes. And we could have campfires. Campfires make everything better.
Nature there is simply wild. Raw. Primal. The views from the circuit itself are stunning, and the mountains are just gorgeous. Simply nothing man-made was to be seen, except for the occasional marking pylon, and one generally-un-maintained refugio (which was actually in quite a good condition as a French man has been living there for over a month when we visited). The weather was also quite harsh - we slogged through a day of on-and-off snow on one trek, and spent another day hiding in our tents from non-stop rain.
The island features two main treks, which diverge a day or so in. The famous of the two is the Dientes Circuit - anywhere between three and five days' worth of hiking, depending on your pace and the weather. The second is the trek to Lago Windhond and back. The Dientes Circuit was the more impressive of the two, for me, and the trail was slightly better, and especially less muddy. The mountain passes (out of five, the first two are shared) were more impressive, although maybe the island's best panoramic views, from Cerro Bertinelli, were only seen as part of the trek to Windhond. It would be quite possible to combine the two, and either do one longer circuit, or tack on the side-trip to Bertinelli from the Dientes. Either way - the hiking is stupendous. and is quite probably my favorite on the trip (thus far).
As for how falling in love with a place felt, well, I'm not quite sure I can describe it either. Something between how nice the people were, how marvelous the hiking was, and the atmosphere at the hostel I was staying at, just made me have love waking up there every morning I was there. That, and the wonderful people I was hiking with, is how I ended up spending almost three weeks somewhere most people spend about a week.
A word of advice: if you're ever heading over, give yourself a few days of leniency. You might want to wait for a better weather window, the boats might not be running due to high currents, or the flights might all be booked. It is, after all, the end of the world.
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