My Life on the D-List

• Gum-chewing, pissed-off woman with big hair speaking Brooklyneese: "Uh, isn't Rick Steves s'posed to be here?"
• Me: "I dunno, I'm sorry. Maybe you could go check . . ."
• Bothered woman: "I don't wanna go somewhere and ask--just tell me!" [shouting at me, the disobedient autistic child] "Is Rick Steves gonna be here or what??"
• Me: "I think he might be coming later in the day, but I don't know for sure."
• Woman: "Well I wish you'd just tell me 'cuz I don't want to go buy one of his books if he ain't comin'." She storms off in a huff.
  

And THAT, dear readers, was the extent of human interaction during my one hour book-signing at the New York Times Travel Show. Ah, New York! If it wasn't for your pizza, pastry, and publishing industry, would I ever go back? Yeah, OK, I probably would.

But Rick, did you not appreciate the warm and ready plastic seat that was awaiting for you to make greeting your adoring fans a bit more comfortable? Hey, don't mention it. Anytime, bro.

The Breakfast Club

I'm back from the breathtaking vistas of southern Chile and facing the cold realities of February. Sometimes travel happens so quickly and intensely that one can only reflect on the full experience after the fact. For years I've been desperately trying to trademark the phrase, "it's not where you travel, but who you travel with that matters." (My retirement plan is to sell little cross-stitched pillowcases and appliqued t-shirts with the phrase). For now though, I am left holding a week's worth of rich and bizarre memories--the wilted party favors of an incredible journey with five random travel writers. Allow me to introduce our motley bunch: Charles, Jimmy, Chantal, Shira, and myself. The Breakfast Club's cardboard VHS cover tagline said it best: "They Only Met Once, but it Changed Their Lives Forever." I will surely miss the antics of my fellow voyagers. Also, I am slowly dealing with the realization that I might just be the Anthony Michael Hall of travel writing.

Travels with Shira

So here it is, folks: my fifteen seconds of fame, over and done like the snap of a toe separator getting yanked from a size 6 foot. Let me introduce you to Shira Lazar (www.shiralazar.com) who the Fates brought into my life somewhere below the 54th parallel of the southern hemisphere. Shira's a TV personality extraordinaire who welcomed me into her sunshine ever so briefly. If I seem like an awkward speechless seventh grader next to the most popular girl in the school, it's because I was having an awkward seventh-grade moment. Yes, we are in Patagonia and that's a condor feather in my pocket.

Icebergs!

Kayaking on Lago Grey in Torres del Paine National Park, Chile.

Penguin Pal

Isla Magdalena, Patagonia, Chile--the closest I've ever been to Antarctica. About a hundred thousand Magellanic penguins cooing and calling, scratching in the dirt and cocking their heads from side to side. I was in love and this little guy here was curious enough to jump out and look at me up close. I may forget a lot of the places I've been and the people I've met, but when two animals stare at each other long enough . . and connect, you can't forget that penguin, you know?

Southernmost

So I just set a new record: my northernmost point on the globe is Grimsey, an itty bitty rocky island north of Iceland at 66° 33′39″ N. Today I flew to to the southernmost bit of South America where it's light all the time and there's ice all around. Something like 53° 10' S which beats my earlier wanderings in New Zealand by nearly 10 degrees. Painfully close to Antarctica but not there yet, alas.

Santiago

Made it to Chile after so much airport craziness. Went to sleep with shivers from the ice storm in Washington and woke up to the heat from the South American sun through the airplane window. After long lines and taxis and stamps (Latin American governments love stapling stuff into your passport, don't they?), I immediately ditched my things and headed into the city. Saw the Cathedral, ate a real life empanada and checked out the Pre-Columbian art museum, where they had very eerie black mummies. I am most happy to simply be here. I finally made it to South America, even if it is under dubious circumstances (more on that later). I snapped this photo exactly one hour ago--two friends hanging out on a stoop. It's kind of how I feel now: content, unassuming, but a little bit exposed.