I’m sitting on a large piece of driftwood in front of the sea. It turns out the sea here isn’t Atlantic or Pacific, but some connection between the two (both? neither?). The Beagle Channel doesn’t smell like much at all, there’s not enough sargassum to wash ashore. There’s only a faint smell of salt, but the air is fresh. 

Across from me is a small peninsula where the Ushuaia airport is. Five of my classmates and I arrived on the same flight from Buenos Aires to Ushuaia around 8am a few days ago. All of us were in awe as we walked out of the airport, the huge mountains in front of us illuminated by pink morning light. This was my first time seeing the Andes, the mountains which I now live between. 

Our flight departed at 4am, and I was lucky enough to sleep a bit on the dark flight down south. When I woke up and opened the window shade a couple of hours later, I could just make out the white snow on the mountains, contrasting the dark lakes and sea channels. Street lights were sparse, soon disappearing altogether. In my tired but thoroughly excited state, a phrase kept running through my mind: “Fin del Mundo”. Maybe it’s a gimmicky name for Ushuaia, but I see where it comes from. Knowing you are traveling down along the Andes until the continent curves slightly, and then ends, really does feel like you are approaching the end of the earth. 

Now as I am seated here, the mountains to my left and right are surrounded by fog, and across the channel is Chile. Although I’m wearing several layers of clothing, gloves, hats, and hoods, I’m shivering, and it’s not easy to write. The weather here is the craziest I’ve ever experienced. On my walk down to the ocean it was clear but drizzling, then fog rolled in, then a rainbow emerged over the channel, and now the sun is poking out. I’ve also come to find it’s much colder down by the water, the wind here is killer. It’s blowing the gulls in every direction, causing them to drop their treats (mussels, crabs, etc.). 

The closest sound to me is wind, which whistles itself under my coat and across the tops of the dark round stones of the beach. Farther away in the channel is the sound of waves, white on the slate gray water. There’s also the sound of cawing gulls, which look different here (dark gray with bright red feet and bills). Earlier I had some bread to eat, and they swarmed me in hopes of having a bite. This, at least, is familiar to me. Seagulls are hungry in every corner of the world, el fin included. The rustling brush behind me, tall windblown trees, berry bushes, flying gulls, and diving hawks impress me immensely. To stay warm, I was gifted a local scarf patterned with Ushuaian windblown trees, perpetually facing away from the sea to an extreme degree. The life here must be used to the harsh weather, but I will feel cold on their behalf anyway. 

My time in Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, has been beautiful and challenging although it has just begun. I’d never imagined such incredible mountains existed in the world, such interesting plant life, or such clear and cold saltwater. Of course, speaking entirely in a different language, trying to make friends, and moving into a stranger’s home has been difficult. But I’m excited for what is to come, to see how the nature around me changes, and to see how I change too.

Photo of leftward (east) facing view from my sit spot.