Of course last night I had everything packed, alarm set, and my clothes laid out. I got in bed early (10:30ish) but, if you noticed the time stamp on my last post, I couldn't sleep. I was so excited and nervous to go to Argentina today. Finally, around 5 I was able to sleep.
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| Driving in Chile |
Now we are cruising through the Chilean countryside at 90 kph. There are so many Chilean flags from every rooftop. I see the first cactus I have seen since arriving in Latin America. I'm adding another set of sceneries to my mental collage of the New World, América.
As I am watching the landscape scroll by, it all stops. We have arrived at a line of stopped cars, which I'm assuming are waiting to cross the border. An invisible man-made line in the Andes dividing currencies, laws, plug types, economies... And yet I jumped the gun. We are not at the border yet, only a toll booth or something similar. I'm not sure.
A few hours later...
Thoughts...
What is a border anyways?
Is it really a border if...?
-I cross it without knowing
-I cross it and I only I know
-little changes-- same language, same landscape, same dominant religion, similar development levels, etc.
-no one searched my things, made me pay an entrance fee, or asked me to declare certain types of items
And, if in my lifetime Chile claims Mendoza, can I still say that I have been to Argentina?


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