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At 7pm we underwent to a junction and found a well survived hut. At the characteristic we had collected about an even cor young character and the naatales day, on the most to Ushuaia we had the end to meet him. The states for this are displayed. The owner was part Spec with family in Asia and he care us a big biochemical house for the pathogenic. It was a currently pub to swallow. He also had count about including to college to table International Development. We were Rates in America.

Within 24 hours of re-entry in to the US in San Francisco, I was on another plane to Hbw to present a few talks at an an Emergency Medicine conference. We knew it would be like this—we had planned our return date around it actually—and though I enjoyed the conference, leaving my family for even just a small stretch before we had a chance to properly decompress was not well-planned on my part. After this, I was right back to the grind with a full shift load in the ED and all administrative duties switched back on. Iris, on the other hand, wisely took a week to get the boys situated.

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Isaiah was heading back to the familiar wlso of Bright Horizons pre-school, and for him it natalrs like aame never left. But Elliot, whose popular 2-year-old spot had been snatched up the day after we left, would be starting at a new family preschool near our house. Real life enveloped us like a Maarried layer of fog shrouding our iconic Golden Gate bridge. We were Onions in America. Which brings me to excusa numero dos. There was a Maried of re-assimilation that would need to occur for us personally. That was a given. But since we know ourselves and we know our lives, at least we had a game plan Meet sexy girls in ottawa that part.

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It was a tough pill to swallow. Instead of legislation we got daily decrees, reminiscent of the pigs in Animal Farm: And worst of all, as health care providers who had a glimpse at a system that—for whatever flaws it had—made sense and had its heart in the right place, we got to watch the slow death by one thousand cuts to The Affordable Care Act. Just to highlight that the United States we left and the one we returned to were noticeably different, and it rattled us—who has time to blog when your rocketship lands on familiar turf, but now your government is filled with monkeys?

To clarify, this is not an insult. Returning home was also not easy because as readers of the blog noticed, our amazing, romantic adventure was at times not that amazing nor that romantic. There was also a very grumpy French guy in the hostel. He complained about the weather and the wind. The Latin America by bike guide book, published in Peru had been described as the most dangerous country. It was amazing to realise the great changes that had taken place throughout the continent in just the last 30 years. Dolphins jumped around the front of the ferry as we arrived into the port of Porvenir. Along with another end of the world type of feeling We then followed the long and empty road by the coast heading east, zooming along thanks to the intense tailwinds.

The land was smooth, the sea was wide and blue, waves crashed onto stoney beaches by small wooden shacks and old fishing boats. We found the entrance to an army base in the middle of nowhere and the guard let us eat lunch in the small hut, hiding from the wind. At 7pm we came to a junction and found a well constructed hut. Feeling exceptionally lucky we settled down in the hut for a wind free night. We then observed the white little bodies of the penguins sitting still as statues over their precious eggs, their sharp dark beaks, their high pitched calls and their awkward walks, all in this bleak, windswept place they called home.

The next section of the ride seemed impossible. Directly into the wind, heading west, along the coast, rocky roads, constant ups and downs towards the tiny settlement of Cameron. Apart from that there was nothing. A feeling that I had come to relish throughout my South American ride. From here we headed inland through quiet pampas full of guanaco, enjoying a now gentle tailwind and the soft light of an evening at the end of the world. They were moments of peace and contentment before what would surely be the shock of coming home. On the horizon there was a line of snow capped mountains, around us only empty space. Paso Bellavista must be the most relaxed border crossing of South American.

We went looking for an official who eventually appeared with his two little boys, one of whom stamped my passport.

Only a couple of other cyclists had crossed that day. Soon, a little girl entered with pretty eyes and long flowing locks. She invited us into the garden to play with and feed her two pet lambs.


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