Road Trip #2 of 2025 : What Yellowstone Gave Me

September 28 – October 9, 2025 (12 days) | Mileage: Unknown

I hadn’t planned on a fall road trip, but when you’re retired and have zero responsibilities, there’s no reason to stay home. So, I didn’t.

What Yellowstone Gave Me

Safety first! Bear vault.

The night before departure did not go as planned. 

I read, I relaxed, I even meditated, but sleep would not come. I twisted myself into a knot in my sheets and dreamt of mountain lions roaming a ballpark across from my parent’s house, which doesn’t exist in real life – the ballpark, not my parents' house. 

The lions exist too, somewhere in the wild lands nearby. Others have seen them, but I haven't. I have no idea what any of that means symbolically, but I hoped it wasn’t some ominous prediction of how this trip would unfold.

Despite an unhappy sleep score of 49 (according to my Garmin watch), I was up and at ‘em, running purely on adventurous adrenaline. By the shockingly early hour of 7:30 am (for me, at least), I was already chasing the long white line of the freeway heading north.

As with all my road trips, my truck, Lily, was absolutely packed to the brim. I never know where I’ll end up or how remote things might be, so I pack like a doomsday prepper. Since I was heading into bear country, all food was responsibly crammed into a bear vault. Because bears. Sidenote: Has anyone else watched the 1976 horror film Grizzly? I did when I was a child, a young child. You’d still be traumatized, too.

I normally avoid starting trips on weekends – higher hotel prices, more traffic, more people – but my excitement bested me, and I left a day early.

Welcome to Idaho

The drive to West Yellowstone is usually an easy 4 ½ hours, but by leaving on a Sunday, as opposed to Monday, I had to come up with an alternate set of plans. Instead of driving directly to Yellowstone National Park and checking into my hotel that afternoon, like I would have had I left as scheduled, I decided to drive to Craters of the Moon National Monument with an overnight stay in Rexburg, Idaho.

But even that changed. 

I bypassed Craters, just kept driving a little farther north on I-15, to Camas National Wildlife Refuge. Since I arrived midday – a less than optimal time for birdwatching – the stop turned into more of a scouting mission than a serious hunt for birds. I did spot a few birds, but the water areas were empty. It'd been a dry year. Still, the refuge had tons of potential, so I’ve already mentally scheduled a return trip during the wetter months of Spring. 

My trips are usually about something – healing, building confidence, processing life – but never intentionally. Long stretches of highway and the steady hum of tires on asphalt have a way of lulling my brain, and whatever thoughts that want to be thought waltz right in uninvited. On my last road trip, things got a bit heavy and introspective, so this time, I told myself that this trip would not be about anything.

But… that lasted less than five minutes. Whether I liked it or not, this road trip had already decided what it was going to be about, and that was spontaneity and changing my plans every few minutes.

While lying on a lumpy mattress in a Super 8 motel in Rexburg, Idaho – I really need to start booking better hotels – I made plans. I even wrote them down in my travel notebook to solidify them. I checked out the next morning with those plans still firmly ensconced in my brain... and then immediately abandoned them. I hadn’t even left the parking lot yet!

Instead of heading north on Highway 20 towards West Yellowstone, I turned east and drove straight to Grand Teton National Park. That was a good decision as it turned out.

The fall colors at Grand Teton NP were poppin'!

I arrived later than expected thanks to traffic, but that minor annoyance vanished quickly when I spotted two moose – a bull and a cow within minutes of entering the park. I didn’t see much wildlife after that, but I was able to check off a new bird, a Canada Jay, in my bird book, which always makes me happy.

Canada Jay

***

When I entered Yellowstone National Park through the southern entrance, I was greeted by two lady elk, but I was exhausted and didn’t stop. I figured I’d see plenty of elk over the next couple of days – and I was right – so I didn’t regret passing them by.

The next morning, I awoke later than I wanted, but I was staying at the Gray Wolf Inn & Suites in West Yellowstone, which meant the park entrance was only minutes away. I passed through the gates at 7 am on the dot!

By 7:15 am, I saw the first elk of the day. There wasn’t much room to pull over, and the herd was way out in the meadow, so I kept driving. A much closer herd appeared near Beryl Spring. The elk standing amidst the drifting steam from the hot springs was one of those magical Yellowstone moments. I slowed down but didn't stop. I should have, but I wanted to get to where I was going.

Beryl Spring without the elk

Mammoth Hot Springs Terraces is one of my favorite spots in the park for birdwatching, and it’s usually my first stop. A narrow one-way road loops around the terraces, but once the midday tourists arrive, it can get quite congested. That makes it tough for someone like me who wants to stop every ten feet to take a photo and spend an hour watching the light playing across the leaves of a tree.

It’s about 1 ½ hours from West Yellowstone, which is why I tend to skip over everything on my way there. That's why I regrettably skipped Beryl Spring.

I despise small talk, but those that know me, know that already. If I can avoid people and idle chit-chat entirely, I will, but on this trip, I took my extroverted friend Pat’s advice and “put myself out there.”

“Just try it,” she said.

So, I did, and suddenly this trip became about that too – an introvert attempting to be an extrovert.

A lady elk, Yellowstone

My first interaction happened in a small parking area at Mammoth Hot Springs Terraces. A solo traveler in a rented Sprinter van asked me about the birds in the area. As an avid bird watcher, I was more than happy to share what knowledge I had. Luckily, the birds she asked about were American Robins – a very common and easily identifiable North American species, but she was from Australia and unfamiliar with the bird. 

We stood on the boardwalk, taking photos, pointing out birds, and chatting. It was a genuinely pleasant experience. Maybe risking a step outside my comfort zone to talk to a stranger wasn’t that bad after all.

September is usually my Yellowstone month. It’s prime time for the elk rut, and photographing these bugling, raging studs has become something I look forward to doing about every other year. However, the last time I caught the rut was in 2022, so I was more than ready to photograph it again. A prior appointment, unfortunately, delayed my departure, and those two lost weeks made a difference.

By the time I arrived, the rut had wound down. I heard a little bugling around Mammoth, but no hormonal beasts running amok through the meadows or across the roads. It was disappointing, but Yellowstone has a way of changing my expectations, offering me alternatives when I least expect them.

Bear!

Black Bear at Yellowstone

My first black bear sighting happened a short time later, after leaving Mammoth Hot Springs.

I don’t drive fast in nature areas. Wildlife is unpredictable, as are many of the clueless tourists traversing the same roads, so I stick to the speed limit. When no one’s behind me, I go even slower. 

That habit paid off big time, because as I rounded a corner, there she was – a black bear meandering down the middle of the road like she owned it. Had I been driving faster, the story for both of us would have been very different and very tragic.

I slowed immediately, flipped on my hazard lights - the common sign in National Parks to precede with caution. For a few seconds, I was the only car. Just the bear and me, but as other vehicles arrived, a small traffic jam formed. Tiring of the attention, the bear gave us one last look of annoyance, clambered down the side of the mountain, and disappeared from sight. 

By the end of the day, I’d spent nearly nine hours in the park, driving less than 155 miles, and seeing just a fraction of Yellowstone's 3,468.4 square miles.

Mammoth Hot Springs Terraces, Yellowstone

But tomorrow is another day.

*** 

I woke up earlier than yesterday, but took the time to heat up some Hot Pockets and make a bagel with cream cheese to-go, and entered the park roughly about the same time as the day before. The morning arrived cold and dark with a fine mist drifting across the landscape, but I felt none of the gloom that I normally would if I were anyplace else. This was Yellowstone National Park after all, and the wet and changing weather only exemplified her beauty.

Wildlife activity was much more abundant than yesterday. Several herds of elk grazed along the Madison River, along with a herd of bison. This area almost always guarantees elk sightings and comes within minutes of passing through the west entrance. 

Then, an hour later…another WOW moment!

Grizzly along Dunraven Pass, Yellowstone
 

Flashing hazard lights gave it away, a sign that something big lay ahead, and as luck would have it, near that big thing was parking. It was around 8:15 am, and the park was relatively quiet. Most of the people out at that hour are serious photographers and wildlife enthusiasts, but a crowd had already gathered. I whipped my truck into one of the empty spots at the viewpoint and hurried back down the hill to join the others. 

What did we see? 

A grizzly! A female, petite (as petite as an adult bear can be), and gorgeous. 

She paid us no mind, too busy digging for grubs, her long claws raking up the dirt and flipping over rocks. A woman with a Canon R5 and a massive telephoto lens stepped up beside me, and channeling my inner extrovert once again, I struck up a conversation. Pat would be so proud!

It started raining harder, but neither the grizzly nor I cared. The temperature hovered around 40 degrees, and my hands were frozen, but I couldn’t leave her, not yet. For half an hour, I watched her with water streaking my glasses and beading rain droplets running off the shoulders of my jacket. This may sound strange to some, but before walking away, I thanked her. Thanked her for allowing me to witness a small, fleeting piece of her life, which immediately became a huge and continuous part of mine.  

***

Don’t pet the fluffy cows! But I want to!

In National Parks, the required distance between people and bison is at least 25 yards. It’s for everyone’s safety – humans and bison. We’ve all seen the online videos of bison launching Tourons (tourists + morons), who strayed too close, into the atmosphere. The warning videos are even played in the visitor centers.

But what do you do when the bison come to you? 

Short answer: you pucker.

I love bison.

I never expect to get caught in a bison jam, but I’m always delighted when I do.

Yellowstone’s bison population fluctuates between 3,000 to 5,000 animals, making it one of the largest and most-important bison populations on public lands. They live in matriarchal family groups that can range from a handful of individuals to thousands.

I was crossing the bridge near Tower-Roosevelt on my way to Lamar Valley when I saw them clustered at the far end of the bridge, blocking the way. There was construction nearby, and a metal plate had been laid across the bridge’s entrance. The bison weren’t thrilled about it and huddled together, figuring out what to do.

There is no other way for them to cross the Yellowstone River here, the cliff face is too steep, so they share the bridge with cars. The lead bison stepped onto the plate with no problems, but the rest were hesitant.

A bison taking the easy route, Yellowstone

Unfortunately, an impatient idiot in a Subaru (with Montana plates) came up behind them and threaded his way through. Too close for comfort, and the herd stampeded. Perhaps stampeded isn’t the right word, but they started running. Really, more of a gentle jog, but when bison move, the land moves, and they were coming directly at me. 

The entire bridge vibrated.

Adult male bison (bulls) can weigh up to 2,000 pounds and stand about 6 feet tall at the shoulder, while females (cows) typically weigh around 1,000 pounds. Cows are about 4-5 feet tall. Despite their massive size, bison can run at speeds of up to 35-45 miles per hour and are capable of impressive athletic feats, such as jumping high fences and swimming. And, in this case, leaping over metal plates in the road.

My window was down, and I was filming with my cell phone. Their hooves clicked against the asphalt. They grunted as they passed, one after another, enormous beasts right outside my window. Almost every single one made eye contact with me. They were so close I could’ve reached out and touched them. I wanted to, but I was also terrified.

Getting closer....

In that moment, I realized that a thin car door offered no protection at all if one of them decided to charge. When one passed so close it barely missed my side mirror, I yanked my arm back inside and rolled up the window, but this was something to be seen. Another unforgettable Yellowstone moment, so I left enough space to stick my phone out and continue recording, because it was awesome!

The grizzly and bison herd should have been enough excitement for one day, but it wasn’t. 

Yellowstone wasn’t done giving just yet.

Another close encounter with a herd of bison….

Less than fifteen minutes later in Lamar Valley, I stopped to photograph a distant bison herd. When I turned back toward my truck, I noticed two bison approaching from the opposite side of the road. I got back in my truck, rested my camera on the door sill, and waited.

More bison came around the small hill, and they were once again coming straight at me.

Soon, the entire area across the road from me was packed with bison. They stepped into the street, creating another traffic jam, and stood nonchalantly in the opposite lane – not more than ten feet from where I sat in my truck.

Stare down! He looks rather cute and fluffy in 
the photo, but was much scarier in person. 

Of course, I took photos, that’s why I was there, but these are wild and powerful animals. The same thoughts played out as when I was on the bridge. I could die. Death by Bison. 

Dramatic? Maybe so, but also realistic. 

Eventually, I put the camera away and just sat there, quiet and still. Letting the moment happen. I also hoped my stillness wouldn’t draw their attention, but after the third time a young bull stopped and stared me down, I decided our moment of bonding was over and promptly drove away.

But – I’ll never forget him.

At Gibbons Meadow picnic area, I stopped for a snack. I sat by the river, pulled out my sketchbook, and took a moment to breathe; to replay the short time I’d already spent in the park. The ravens came, and I shared my bag of Cheetos with them.

Raven (with a small dot of Cheeto on his beak,
Yellowstone

And yes. I talked to them, too.

Just like I talked to the grizzly.

The bison.

And every wild thing that’s crossed my path.

Even the chipmunks at Mammoth Hot Springs.

Out here, wrapped in so much beauty, talking to the animals feels natural, feels like the polite thing to do. I am in their house after all. I may sometimes struggle with small talk with humans, but I’ll talk to a wild creature every single time.

Yellowstone didn’t give me the rut this time. It gave me something else entirely. Something quieter, deeper, and unexpected. A feeling that fills my being so completely and intensely that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to explain it. You’ll have to go yourself. Experience the park firsthand, feel what I feel in your own way. And then you’ll understand.

My time here has come to an end, but my adventure hasn’t.

Stay tuned.

To see more of my photos, visit me on Instagram or visit my Facebook page. And, as always, thank you for sharing in my journey. 

Least Chipmunks, Yellowstone

Fall colors along Black Plateau Road, Yellowstone

A young bison was also staring me down, Yellowstone

Road Trip: May 20 - June 20, 2025

How time flies.

It’s been a year since I’ve posted anything on this blog.

I’ve taken a couple of fun road trips this past year, and started writing about them, but never finished and never posted. So, let’s begin with Road Trip #1 of 2025.

West of Cheyenne WY on I-80

May 20 – June 20, 2025 (32 days) | 3,463 miles

The scattered rain and chilly morning felt refreshing as I crossed into Wyoming, but only briefly. The winds soon arrived. I’ve never been to Wyoming when it hasn’t been windy. Does it ever stop?

Zipping along I-80 while gusts clocked in around 30 mph, I practically blew through Rock Springs and Laramie before landing in Cheyenne for my first overnight stop. 

Bella 

I had ambitious plans: The Cheyenne Botanical Gardens, the State Capitol Building, Curt Gowdy State Park, and of course, finding some good BBQ, but the wind and rain thwarted everything. I stayed holed up in my hotel room instead, watching TV and eating my entire stash of road trip snacks for dinner.

The next morning, I dropped down into Colorado and stopped to stretch my legs at PoudreTrail in Greeley. It was a pretty place for birdwatching, except for a suspicious-looking guy hanging around. I kept my knife handy, stayed close to the parking lot, and made it a very short nature walk.

Bella! 

I finally arrived at my best friend Christy’s house and went straight in for a hug with her dog. Priorities. I adore that little fluff ball. I hadn’t seen Bella (or Christy) since January 2024, when I dog-sat while Christy went on a cruise. Of course, that’s when Colorado had some of its worst weather with temperatures plunging into the negative. There’s nothing like bundling up a tiny dog to take outside to poop while an arctic blast freezes us both in mid step. I felt so bad for taking her out in such horrific conditions, that I figured she could poop on Christy's carpet, and I'd clean it up later. But being the good girl that she is, she never did.

A Royal Evening with Dr. Hawass and Christy

Anyway... Christy and I had tickets for a lecture the following evening to hear Dr. Zahi Hawass speak, a big name in Egyptian archaeology, and often touted as a “real-life Indiana Jones”. We were thrilled, but sadly, our Royal Evening with the renowned Dr. Hawass was less than royal.

Our tickets were a painful $239 each. The “upgrade” got us maybe five rows closer, but we could’ve seen and heard just fine from the cheap seats. He flipped through his PowerPoint photos so quick that I missed half of them, and the images I did see, I had no idea what they were of because he was either talking too fast (in his heavy Egyptian accent that I had trouble understanding) or wasn’t taking the time to explain them at all.

The book signing afterward was chaotic, and the books themselves were pricey. Neither of us bought any books, but we stood in line anyway just to meet him. Except, he wasn’t doing a meet-and-greet. Just signing. There was a preshow VIP meet-and-greet lasting between 30-45 minutes, but those tickets were about $795 each!

Riding the carousel at the Denver Zoo

The line moved speedy-quick and when it was our turn, we were swiftly ushered behind Dr. Hawass for a photo (taken with my cellphone) while he continued signing books for the couple who had gone before us. Not once did he look up to say hello or even acknowledge us. I kept waiting, but nope. The photos were taken before I realized what was happening, resulting in a series of blurry images where I’m looking everywhere except at the camera. #ugh.

Day 4 of my road trip started with a visit to the Denver Zoo with Christy. Somewhere along our 4+ mile walk through the zoo, we rode a carousel. I’ve ridden carousels before, but not in years. Probably not since I was a kid but riding one was on my 56 x 57 list – 56 things I wanted to do before my 57^th birthday. I was able to get that activity checked off. Thanks Christy!

The next morning, I said goodbye to my friend and pointed my truck south on I-83, but I didn’t get very far.

Castlewood Canyon
State Park

Less than a ½ hour after leaving Christy's house, I pulled into Castlewood Canyon State Park in Franktown, a spontaneous stop that turned out to be a highlight. The park protects more than 2,000 acres of Colorado’s Black Forest region with elevations ranging from 6,200 to 6,600 feet.

I wasn’t dressed for hiking, but it didn’t stop me from wandering. I took a short walk along the East Canyon Trail and then along a paved path. About 100 bird species have been recorded in the park, and while I didn’t see that many, I was able to check off two new birds in my bird book - a Pygmy Nuthatch, and a Plumbeous Vireo.

Castlewood delayed my original plan to visit Garden of the Gods, but I headed there next anyway. I arrived about 1 pm and immediately regretted it. The place was packed. My weather app claimed it was only 73 degrees, but it felt much hotter. I decided Garden of the Gods deserved a better visit with me in a better mood, so I kept driving.

That night I stayed in a less than luxurious Super 8 motel in Trinidad near Colorado’s southern border. I fell asleep fully expecting my truck to be stolen or broken into during the night, but the next morning, she was still there, as was all my stuff that I'd crammed inside of her.

Maxwell NWR, New Mexico

I was back on the road by 7:20 am, heading further south, but with no real destination in mind. About an hour later, I made another impromptu stop at Maxwell National Wildlife Refuge in Maxwell, New Mexico. I added another new bird to my list – a Lark Bunting – along with sightings of Horned Larks, Eastern Kingbirds, and a Northern Mockingbird, which I’d seen only once before.

By lunchtime, I was craving Mexican food. In Las Vegas, NM, I searched and searched, but most places were closed as it was Sunday of Memorial Day weekend or looked sketchy enough that I wasn’t willing to risk food poisoning (or perhaps a kidnapping by a cartel). I finally settled on a small, local diner where it was immediately clear I was an outsider.

Two Swallows Tattoo

People who arrived after me were served first. My club sandwich came out minus the fries, which they’d apparently run out of and had to make a new batch, but other plates had fries, so who knows? The food was mediocre, and the service sucked. Nearly everyone who worked there or who came in to eat, looked like parolees, and after working law enforcement for 26 ½ years, that made me a bit uncomfortable. I paid the bill, ate quickly, although I had a long wait before my fries finally arrived, and headed back to my truck, once again expecting it to be gone.

I usually seek out mom-and-pop diners when I travel, preferring to support local establishments over fast-food chains, but in hindsight, McDonalds might have been the better choice.

Originally, I planned to head west to Santa Fe to check out the art scene, then down to Alburquerque for more sightseeing, and then eventually to Bosque del Apache NWR for more birdwatching, but I had a calling. A calling to turn southeast and head towards Roswell. 

I’d passed through this part of New Mexico during the pandemic, but never actually made it as far as Roswell. Everything was closed back then, including the International UFO Museum and Research Center. This time though, it was open.

The International UFO Museum and Research Center, Roswell, NM

Believe in aliens and UFOs or not, the museum is worth a stop. If you’re skeptical, take time to read through the volumes of witness accounts about the 1947 “weather balloon” crash and stories of alien abductions. You might still leave unconvinced, or you might start looking at the sky a little differently like I did (and still do).

My tattoo

After the museum, I wandered through the town in 80+ degree heat, buying postcards and souvenirs, but there was one souvenir I wanted, and had been wanting for a few years. One that was a little more permanent.

I had a design in mind when I walked into Two Swallows Tattoo, but after flipping through their flash art, I chose something completely different. Jessie, my tattoo artist, has been an artist her whole life, but tattooing for only about five years. I couldn’t be happier with her work.

And yes – I got a UFO tattoo in Roswell, a town famous for a UFO crash. Does anyone else find that as amusing as me? If that’s not a better souvenir than a refrigerator magnet (although I bought one of those too), I don’t know what is. I still laugh every time I look at it, and I suppose a return trip to Roswell to attend Alien Con is inevitable, if not just to get another tattoo.

From Roswell, the miles started stacking up. I spent a night in Alamogordo, NM then crossed into Arizona for lunch in Tombstone at the Longhorn Restaurant. It was 101 degrees, far too hot for a walkabout in the desert. The Courthouse Museum was about all I could manage.

Next stop: Tucson, where I stayed two nights at My Place Hotel – a great base for exploring Saguaro National Park. I’d never seen saguaro cacti in bloom before, and it was stunning (see photos below). Even better, I added two new birds to my list: a White-winged Dove and a Pyrrhuloxia, a gray toned cardinal found only in the Chihuahuan and Sonoran deserts.

Mom

On Day 10 of my road trip, I arrived in San Diego, where I quietly celebrated my mom’s 80^th birthday. We visited La Jolla Cove, Santee Lakes, Balboa Park, and a few other touristy areas that neither of us had been to in a while. She even tried sushi for the first time. She didn’t like it though. What was to be a short visit with my mom turned into nearly three weeks before I finally began my journey home.

Traveling is my jam. 

I’m always grateful for the miles, the detours, the exciting sights along the way, even for the wind and rain, because they add to the story of my life, a story that only a road trip can deliver. 

Probably not the best story to come out of this trip, however, was after I got home, I accidentally deleted about 200 of my photos before I’d uploaded them! #ugh!

To see more of my photos visit me on Instagram or visit my Facebook page. And, as always, thank you for sharing in my journey. 

A White-winged Dove on a Saguaro

Saguaro cactus in bloom

Northern Mockingbird, Maxwell NWR, New Mexico

¡Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires! Fin.

 The End. 

Day Sixteen

Maybe it was last night’s cheap wine, but I woke up with a headache. It was a lazy morning, and I didn’t leave the apartment until almost 1pm. I went on a search for souvenirs. In all my daily outings, I hadn’t seen many souvenir shops, most were other businesses that sold a few trinkets on the side, but I was looking for something other than the usual magnets and postcards.

I Googled a few places, but none of them had what I was looking for. I wanted something Christmasy for my mom as she collects Snowmen and Santas. I also wanted to find a wood sculpture of a bird or something Argentine-related that I could decorate my apartment with. I followed my GPS back to Alto Palermo mall to a kiosk that had ‘Christmas’ in their name, but they sold nothing related to the holiday.

The energy of the city was very hectic today, but that might have been just my energy because I was almost hit by a bus! I was crossing the street, and the bus was making a wide right turn. Luckily, I stopped, otherwise I would have walked into the side of it. I’m surprised that more people don’t get run over as drivers don’t bother to stop or even slow down when pedestrians are in a designated crosswalk.

After walking about 5 miles in a fruitless search, I finally found a Christmas store less than a mile from my apartment. I bought two small wooden figurines for my mom, but when I got back to the apartment and read the label, they were made in China!

A Messi mural by artist 
Maxi Banasco.

Day Seventeen

After a twenty-minute walk to Dulce de Leche & Company to buy alfajores and a jar of dulce de leche to make my own alfajores when I return home, I went in search of a cafe. I stayed within my neighborhood, but most of the outside tables were taken. The only ones available were in direct sunlight and it was 80-degrees. Much too hot to sit in the sun and it was also during peak lunch time (around 2pm) so everything was full. 

By now, I was getting cranky as I was tired from lack of sleep due to my noisy neighbors and the sun just seemed hotter than usual, so I picked up some empanadas from Brozziano’s and returned to my air-conditioned apartment.

My time in Buenos Aires has been very slow and on the verge of being lazy, but now that I have less than a week left, I feel the need to fill my remaining days with activity. I took a cool shower and laid down for a nap with plans to go out for dinner, but I neither napped nor went back out.

That night, I opened the door to the balcony and let the cool air flow through. While lying in bed, I could hear the life of the city, and it was wonderful. It was 10pm, and I heard people in the neighboring apartments talking and laughing while kids played, dishes clanking as dinner ended, and in the distance traffic hummed. I felt connected and very much present.

 Day Eighteen

Feria de Recoleta bazaar

Instead of walking the 2.5 miles from my apartment to Museo Nacional de Bellas Arte, I took an Uber. For the 15-minute drive, it cost around $4 usd. I think I tipped the driver more than what the trip cost. 

Across the street from the museum, was Feria de Recoleta, an open-air bazaar with handmade arts & crafts. I had read about it online and that it was popular with tourists, so I strolled through the booths, marveling at everyone’s creativity.

I bought a black and white photo of Café Tortoni (which is where I had drinks with Ale on my 3^rd day here) taken by a photographer named Sebastian. I tried to talk to him a little bit, but he didn’t speak English and my Spanish was lacking. I wanted to ask if he posted his pictures on Instagram, but the two or three times I strolled past his area, he was sitting with several other men, and I was too embarrassed to approach. I also bought a small red leather coin purse and a beautiful handmade leather purse by other local artists. In hindsight, I wish I’d have bought more artwork. There were some beautiful paintings that would have looked fantastic on my walls.

Floralis Generica

I spent about an hour and a half wandering around the bazaar before heading across the street to the museum. It was a small museum, and admission was free. I was happily surprised by what I found inside: artwork by Edgar Degas, Paul Gauguin, and Manet, to name a few, and there was even a Van Gogh painting (Le Moulin de la Galette 1886)!

After the museum, I walked in the direction of my apartment but took my time enjoying the beautiful day. It was 67-degrees, warm, and breezy; very different from the scorching 80-something degrees of yesterday.  

Floralis Generica is a steel and aluminum sculpture in Plaza de la Naciones Unidas. It was a gift to the city by the Argentine architect Eduard Catalono. Catalano describes the flower as “a synthesis of all the flowers and, at the same time, a hope reborn every day at opening.” It was created in 2002 and was designed to move, closing its petals in the evening and opening them in the morning.

Plaza Alemania

I stopped at Museo de arte de latin America, but I couldn’t purchase tickets there. I had to buy them online. General admission was only $8. I tried to buy a ticket online but couldn’t figure out the site as it was in Spanish. Trying to navigate the site was frustrating and after a few minutes, I decided it wasn’t worth the stress. I visited the museum’s tiny giftshop and bookstore and then moved on.

Plaza Alemania is a square located in Palermo. It houses the monument-fountain of Argentine Agricultural Wealth, which the German community gave to the Argentine people in celebration of the Centennial of the May Revolutions. The monument has enormous figures that represent agriculture, livestock, and the cultural imprint of Germany in Argentina.

I walked almost 6 miles before reaching my apartment. The blisters on my feet were hurting and I was too tired to go out for dinner, so I cooked up some pasta, elevated my legs and watched TV. However, later that night I went over to Shawn’s apartment, and we watched “Deadpool and Wolverine”.

Another great day in Buenos Aires.

Day Nineteen

Lunch at Chori

I woke up with grand plans to take an Uber to San Telmo to an even bigger street bazaar and to see 9 de Julio Avenue, the world’s widest avenue, but it was raining. I’m lazy on most days, but rainy days make it worse so, regrettably, I didn’t go. 

A few hours later, the rain stopped so I walked to Chori for lunch. Chori was one of the stops on the food tour I had taken. I ate a Chori de Cancha (sausage sandwich with chimichurri). As a small bite during the food tour, I thought it delicious, but as entire sandwich, it was too dry with too much bread and not enough sauce.

Deliciousness!

Since the weather had cleared, I kept walking around Palermo and ended up at an outdoor mall, Distrito Arcos Premium Outlet. At the Puma shoe store, there was a long line outside the door. I think they were having a 50% off sale, but it seemed like a lot of people gathered just for a sale. I glanced inside, thinking there might be an event with a famous athlete who was responsible for the crowd, but it appeared to be only shoppers.

I window-shopped but the stores seemed no different than in the United States. I just wanted to get some steps in for the day. On the way back to my apartment, I stopped at a snack shop and, surprise! bought several packages of alfajores.

Dinner that night was at Dandy Grill with Shawn. He recommended the tomahawk steak with cheese and spinach sauce and, by far, it was the best meal of my trip. The meat melted in my mouth and the Tiramisu for dessert was scrumptious. It was a comfortable evening for an after-dinner stroll to walk off our dinners – 64-degrees, cool air, scattered clouds, but no rain and no jacket required.

Enjoying great weather and splendid company was the perfect way to end an amazing trip.

Day 20

I awoke tired and sad knowing I was leaving beautiful Buenos Aires today.

Shawn & I at Urbano Cocina

My check out time at my apartment was at 11am, but my flight wasn’t until 9pm, so with my suitcase bumping along behind me, I toddled around the corner to Shawn’s apartment to hangout. We watched “The Creator,” a movie about artificial intelligence that I wasn’t expecting to like but enjoyed very much. 

Afterwards, we went to Urbano Cocina California for lunch. I had a salmon salad, but the fish was dry. This meal ranked as the worst of my trip and unfortunately, it was my last meal in Buenos Aires.

During the ride to Buenos Aires Airport, it rained heavily and there was lots of traffic. I had plenty of time before my flight, so I welcomed the delay. It gave me a chance to see the city outside of Palermo. It took a little over an hour to reach the airport and I still had about four hours left until my flight, so I shopped for souvenirs. I bought a few, including a replica Lionel Messi jersey, which ended up being too small after I tried it on when I got home, but at least I now have a jersey. 

Maneuvering through the airport was easy enough, but when I went through the metal detector at security, it beeped. I think it was rigged to flag foreigners, because while waiting in line, the airport agent asked me if I was ‘American’ and then directed me to a certain lane. The woman in front of me was also a foreigner and sent to the same line. Coincidence? I think not, but after a quick pat-down I was free to go.

Airport artwork

At a kiosk directly across from my gate, I bought a bottle of water. I had drunk it and was about halfway through my refill when it was time to board the plane. Over the intercom, I heard an announcement in Spanish. I understood the word “Agua,” meaning water, but nothing else so I didn’t pay attention.

Prior to boarding, airport agents checked everyone’s carry-on bags. When the agent found my bottle of water, she asked if I spoke Spanish. When I told her “No,” she held up my water and rudely told me I wasn’t allowed to bring it on the plane. I told her I bought it at the kiosk, which was about 50-feet behind her, but that didn’t matter.  

I was irritated by both her attitude with me because I didn’t understand Spanish and the fact that I couldn’t bring water on a long-haul flight, so I took the bottle from her and chugged down a good portion of it while maintaining eye-contact with her. It was probably more water than I should have drunk at one time, because my stomach hurt afterward, but by the look on her face, I could tell she wasn’t happy with my impudence, however, I felt vindicated. Sidenote: The airlines did provide water on the flight, although I didn’t drink as much as I would have if I had had my own bottle, but at least it was available.

For the in-flight dinner, I chose steak over chicken, hoping it would be like the steak at Dandy’s, but it was dry, flavorless and bordering on disgusting. Luckily, I had some leftover empanadas in my bag that I had eaten earlier while waiting at the airport, so I wasn’t that hungry. Breakfast was French toast, which was just okay. Airplane food sucks and I don't know why they can't make it better. All it takes is a little seasoning. 

My harmless little jar of dulce de leche

My connecting flight was again in Houston, and I arrived with plenty of time to pick up my luggage and go through a modified security check point. Unfortunately, the jar of Dulce de Leche I had in my carry-on that was allowed on the plane in Buenos Aires, wasn’t allowed in my carry-on from Houston to Salt Lake City.

I had debated about which bag to pack it in, but thought it safer in my carry-on, however, that was the wrong decision. I wasn’t about to dispose of it because it cost me almost $8! I lied and told the agent “They” told me I would be allowed to bring it on the flight as a carry-on. 

One last empanada

When she asked who "they" were and I told them they were the agents at the airport in Buenos Aires, she responded that they’ll say anything. I thought that an odd comment to make and wondered if she had ever met any agents from that airport. Probably not. It seems the majority of TSA Agents I’ve interacted with (on this trip and others) are always rude.

The agent wouldn't allow me to take my own jar back to the unsecured part of the airport, so I had to wait for a 2nd agent to arrive. I laughed when the 2nd agent went to grab the jar and the 1st agent pulled it away and told her to put gloves on first. I wanted to tell her that that was a bit of security overkill, and it was only caramel sauce, not a bomb, but thought that might get me sent to the strip search room, so as hard as it was, I kept my comments to myself. 

When I returned to the counter to check in my jar, I had some fun with it. I placed the jar on the counter and told the clerk I had to check this in as part of my luggage. Since my suitcase had already been checked and sent through the bowels of the airport to wherever luggage goes, she looked at me, at the jar and then at me again. She was clearly confused as to how to check in a single jar. I shrugged and watched her face as she struggled with what to do, but then she saw my carry-on and said I had to check my entire bag, which I didn’t mind because it gave me more legroom on the cramped flight home.

The view flying into SLC

To get to my gate, I had to return through security, but because I was wearing a baggy hoody, I was patted down again. The agent was so unsafe in her techniques that when I moved my arm, I nearly elbowed her in the face. I can only imagine what would have happened had I accidentally hit her.

The entire episode at the Houston airport was ridiculous and now I understand why TSA Agents are always angry. They make their own jobs harder by the way they go about doing it. Work smarter not harder!

I landed in Salt Lake City on time. It was 72-degrees, but the air quality was horrible due to the Yellow Lake Fire burning in the Uintah’s. All the smoke had settled over the city and made it difficult to breath. Although I was still in the Uber on my way home, I was already thinking about where to go next. 

Maybe somewhere tropical. Won't you join me?

This was a life-changing adventure for me. Each day as my confidence grew, I learned to trust in myself. I realized I am capable and, although it might be scary at first, stepping outside my comfort zone is a good thing and can lead to amazing adventures. I am eager to travel again and see what the future brings now that I know I can do it with or without someone by my side. 

I loved the city's energy and beauty, but I think what I found so attractive about Buenos Aires, was that it was actually a reflection of myself, of the woman I had become in those three short weeks. And I admit, by the end of my trip, I was feeling a bit of a badass. 

To follow me on my journey and to see more photos, visit me on Instagram and Facebook. 

To follow Shawn on his world adventures visit him on Instagram.

Interested in staying in Babel Arcos in Buenos Aires? Visit here.

Selfie in front of Eduard Manet's
The Surprised Nymph at the
Museo Nacional de Bellas Arte

Random graffiti on a street corner in Buenos Aires

Plaza Alemania

Artwork created from toys at Distrito
Arcos Premium Outlet Mall

Waiting to go home and 
listening to all the announcements
in Spanish that I didn't
understand :)