Left Buenos Aires at 7pm on a 23 hour bus ride south to San Martin de los Andes. A rather curious fellow (one of six people on the bus, including myself) drank aproximately 35 cups of coffee during the journey, starting at 2am until we arrived at 4pm. He paced back and fourth from his seat to the coffee machince, which we were sitting next to, and filled himself a small cup of black coffee approximately every 20 minutes- sometimes he would leave his cup half full, go back to his seat, then return to finish it within 5-8 minutes. He would sit and sip the black coffee, then return to his assigned seat, and the process would start over again. It was one of the strangest things I've ever seen and felt the need to share this random encounter with you...
The feelings I experienced leading up to this trip were much different than the uncontrolled excitement that consumed me before my first adventure on the South American road. In those last weeks there were ripples of nervousness and doubt and sadness, but underneath that superficial layer was an ocean of calm. I shed tears with friends upon each farewell hug and again in the airport as I said goodbye to my dad. It was scary to take the first step, to remove myself from my comfort zone, ripping the security blanket from over my head. 
