Due to a domestic airline strike we were forced to take the train from Buenos Aires to Mendoza, a 600 mile, 14 hour ride. As our departure approached, threatening clouds appeared over the city and a wind began to drive rain violently against the street with each drop ricocheting back in sparkling spray. As we boarded the train, the sun disappeared into the night. I sat by the window and listened to music through my headphones as the steam train began its clunking shake across the width of Argentina.

Darkness was punctuated by lights along the tracks. I felt like I was watching a movie, frame by delayed frame, short glimpses of tall pampas grass shaking in the wind. Droplets of water raced down the glass. My head rested back into my seat as my gaze alternated between the rain streaked glass and the flashes of dancing grass.

Argentina