"Can you take one more picture of me?" Under normal circumstances Jenny's request was a harmless one. But I knew the potential igniting power of it in this particular moment. 

I quickly and nervously glanced to Tom and Danny as one looks on fearfully and helplessly at a ticking grenade. Tom's face turned bright red and the vein on his forehead bulged slightly, but with all the discipline he could muster, he pursed his lips to contain his wrath. Danny issued a silent and characteristically sarcastic commentary with the roll of his eyes. 

After two days of catering to this girls' preferences, her refusal to take a turn in the back seat like everyone else, her barrage of complaints (including but not limited to the use of too many eggs in her specially prepared vegetarian meals), her full-on photo shoots with six different cameras at every stop, and her general disregard for everyone else in our group and the established schedule, no words were necessary; I knew exactly what Tom and Danny were thinking because I was thinking it too. 

I have sat down to write this post at least three times now, and I have given up each time.

We just finished a month long trip through Patagonia. It was the most jaw-dropping natural landscapes I have ever laid my eyes on and yet I have toiled to figure out what to say about it.

My husband, Tom, suggested that I write this post to an audience of hikers and to explain why they need to visit Patagonia. But against his good judgment, I decided, instead, to write this post to you.

You, who does not own a pair of hiking boots. You, whose idea of nature is your own backyard. And you, who feels more at home in cityscapes than landscapes.

To you, I am recommending that you add Patagonia to your bucket list.

In lockstep with “selling ice to eskimos,” one would think that selling hot water to Portenos in the middle of the hottest summer in Buenos Aires in 43 years, would be nearly impossible. 

But it’s not. It’s actually quite easy. 

In fact, it’s rare to find an Argentinian or Uruguayan walking around without a thermos of hot water under one arm - rain or shine, blistering hot or freezing cold. 

In the parks and at the beaches, kiosks advertise “hay agua caliente” (hot water available) as people walk by dripping in sweat. The first time I saw one of these signs, I did a double take and wondered if my high-school Spanish teacher accidently taught me the wrong word for hot.

I thought to myself, why in the world would anyone want hot water in this weather?