How I found my way through the mist in Argentina

Chapter 24: One week left of my epic journey

Welcome to Chapter 24 of Love at First Flight, my solo round-the-world travel memoir.

In this chapter I arrive in Argentina, the final country on my round-the-world trip.

Emerging from the mists of Iguazu Falls to the streets of Buenos Aires, I'm unclear what lies ahead.

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My plan for a discreet cry on the bus was ruined.

A pretty blonde woman sat down and pulled out a journal to write in, like mine on the small table in front of me. As I tried to catch my breath and stop my tears from spilling over, she turned to me.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Sorry, I'm feeling emotional," I replied, wishing she’d sat somewhere else. I just needed some alone time.

"Have you… fallen in love?" she asked with a smile.

How could she possibly know? I exhaled deeply and told her everything.

This is me at the Iguazu Falls. All photos by/of Claire at Backpacking Bella.

The misty falls

A few days earlier, on the plane from Rio de Janeiro, I saw them - the Iguazu Falls, one of the natural wonders of the world.

White mist emanated from green forests below like a steaming hole in the earth. The ferocious cascades straddling Brazil and Argentina were so powerful I swore I could hear them too.

After landing and checking into my hostel, I set off to explore the Brazilian side of these famous falls.

Forest trails, home to ring-tailed coatis and pretty butterflies, led me to impressive panoramic views.

Gorgeous wildlife on the Brazil side of the falls.

Then I approached the Devil's Throat, a dramatic U-shaped chasm. Here, gallons of water drop over a cliff and bounce off shiny rocks into the pool below, covered by a gauze of cool mist.

The mists of the Devil’s Throat.

Crossing the threshold

The next day, I walked across the border into Argentina. My final country. The end of my epic round-the-world expedition.

Here, paths took me up close to the falls, where I could hear nothing but a thundering roar, as droplets moistened my skin. On a boat tour underneath the falls, white water slapped forcefully onto my head until I could no longer tell which way was up.

Me on the boat trip, before we went under the falls.

As I left Iguazu in the pouring rain, my mind felt as foggy as the falls themselves. Everything I thought I knew was disappearing into a hole in the ground.

My South American experience was coming to an end and everything was rushing through me. The brief romance with the guy in Chile. My epiphany in Rio, where I'd realised I’d kept my heart under lock and key all these years. The dam had been broken. And in its place was a vacuum, a void.

This force left me standing in my own mist, unable to see where I was heading.

Everything I thought I knew was disappearing into a hole in the ground.

An unclear path ahead

Part of me was reluctant to fly home to London in a week. Of course, I was looking forward to seeing family and friends, celebrating Christmas at home. But then what?

I knew I'd be heading back to New Zealand for a short work contract, but after that I didn’t know. Would I continue travelling or actually stay in one place for a change?

The old me would have spiralled into anxiety about not having a plan. But nine months on the road had challenged how I handled uncertainty. Even when feeling overwhelmed, I'd learned to trust that things would work out.

My travels had shown me the universe would guide me to the people, places and experiences I needed to grow. I'd seen it happen too many times to be coincidence.

First though, I needed to process all this. I was exhausted and emotional. And that meant having a good cry on the long bus journey to Buenos Aires.

Bus to Buenos Aires

Then I met Jasmine, the pretty blonde lady. During our bus ride, she told me her story.

Jasmine had recently fallen for a guy she met on a plane, so she understood the heartache of travel romances. She told me:

"Nothing is certain no matter how strongly you feel. Everyone's plans can change."

As I gazed out of the top floor front window, her words made sense. What happens is so fluid, especially when you're travelling. You can't anticipate what's coming, good or bad. All you can do is go with the flow and trust that everything will become clear in good time.

She asked what I wanted to do in Buenos Aires.

"Dance tango and eat steak," I replied with a smile.

"I know the city well," she replied, writing me a beautiful note with her best recommendations.

Now I had a plan - for the next week at least.

The city of passion

Violet-blossomed jacaranda lined the wide avenues of Buenos Aires. Music and people spilled onto the streets of the Palermo Soho neighbourhood where I was staying. Rows of shiny fruit gleamed outside small grocery shops, next to immaculate glass-fronted fashion stores.

The vibrant colours continued on a walking tour of the city. A guide showed us bright murals of Argentinian tango legend Carlos Gardel.

Then there was the pink presidential mansion where Eva Perón made her famous speech. Here was a woman who'd followed her calling despite fierce opposition, believing in herself and trusting in something greater.

Armed with Jasmine’s note, I booked a table for one during ‘happy hour’ at her favourite restaurant and indulged in delicious Argentinian steak and wine.

The vibrant colours and flavours of Buenos Aires

Belly full, I returned to my hostel and lay on my bed, still not sure how I felt about my impending return to London. I had that feeling again that I wanted to be alone, but then I remembered how much I loved meeting Jasmine.

To pull me out of my mood, I struck up a conversation with someone in the dorm. She introduced herself as Fanny and we clicked immediately, becoming instant best friends. Yet another example of perfect synchronicity for my final days here.

We decided to try the tango class Jasmine had recommended.

Dancing tango

Entering La Catédral Club, we saw a large wooden barn-like space with tables lining three sides, surrounded by people ready to dance.

Lights were suspended from the vaulted ceiling and artworks hung high up on its walls. Dominating the centre, above everyone, was an artist’s rendering of an enormous, red, anatomical heart.

Fanny and I observed the class. Couples with clasped hands moved around the dancefloor, some confident, others watching their feet. One handsome man caught my eye. Eventually the session came to an end and we applauded the dancers.

The man I’d spotted approached me and introduced himself as Gabriel, from here in Argentina. When I told him I’m from London, his eyes lit up.

“I’ve just moved back here from London,” he told me with a huge smile.

He’d been living in the neighbourhood next to the one I’d just left behind. Where I used to go for yoga classes. I couldn’t believe it.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, shyly. How could I say no?

Taking his hand, I leaned my weight against him tentatively, as the teacher guided us through the eight steps of tango. It was more complicated than I thought, but we learned to balance together and make it work. Soon we were gliding across the floor, mindful not to bump into other twirling couples, beneath that giant red heart.

Buenos Aires would be a wonderful city to fall in love in - wandering the sun-drenched streets, arm in arm with your beau, sharing a bottle of rich Malbec and dancing tango late into the night. Magical. I was under its spell.

At the end of the evening, Gabriel turned to me, saying:

“I loved dancing with you. How long are you in Buenos Aires? Let’s meet up here and dance together again.”

Looking at him, it was a tempting proposition. I definitely found him attractive and it would be a romantic ending to my round-the-world expedition. But I knew this didn't need to become another love story.

The evening itself had been just perfect.

The mirror of home

Back at the hostel, Fanny and I were hanging out in the kitchen when we got chatting with another Argentinian, called Fernando. When I mentioned London, he pulled out his laptop and excitedly showed me photos from his recent trip.

There he was, beaming under Piccadilly Circus's bright lights. And there, posing in Camden Market wearing a David Bowie t-shirt he’d just bought.

"You're so lucky to live there," he said wistfully.

I was lucky, I realised. Now I was seeing my city through fresh eyes, thanks to Fernando. This place I'd thought I’d fallen out of love with was actually a brilliant, inspiring, complex metropolis that had shaped me.

In that moment, I knew. I was ready to go back.

Crystal clarity

My departure day arrived. As my taxi wound through Buenos Aires towards the airport, the skies were crystal clear - and so was my mind. The mists had dissipated.

I'd spent nine months travelling alone, learning to trust my intuition and to believe the universe guides me where I need to go.

The instant deep connections I’d made with other people on my journey couldn't all be luck. Maybe I was finally who I always wanted to be: happy, calm and emanating positive energy that attracted others.

Back in my anxious London days, desperately doing yoga classes to find calm, I was convinced a boyfriend would make my life better. But only I could do that.

I had travelled all the way around the world by myself. And now it was time to go home.

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Have you had a travel experience that changed your perspective? Or met someone who helped you see home differently? I'd love to hear your stories in the comments.

Next up, I return home before heading to New Zealand for a new solo adventure, where I receive a surprise offer and have to make an important decision.