Tierra del Fuego

On a scorching summer day, Ellen, my British travel companion, and I started off our backpacking journey through Argentina with a trip from Buenos Aires to the self-proclaimed but accurately described “end of the world.” Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, reminded me of a New England fishing town; the bearded men hugged each other and everyone bundled up to keep cozy in the bitterly cold wind.

By the end of our four-day stay, I already knew people on the street. Black mountains and white-capped lakes and ancient forests surrounded the town, forming a shelter and an escape. Sitting in Tante Sara, a café in the center of town, we watched friends wave hello to each other through the big windows overlooking the main street before spontaneously joining each other for lunch. Waiters patted me on the back and everyone, in true Argentine style, kissed each other on the cheek. Although it was a frequent stop for tourists, the town retained its homey, comfortable atmosphere and the locals, seemingly unaware of the stigma surrounding “the tourist,” received us warmly and without hesitation.