PCT Stage 04: Big Bear to Wrightwood

Hello everyone! How are you? I’m back :). I’m delighted that you’re here again, interested in reading about my adventure on the PCT. In this case, I want to tell you about my days from 17 to 23, during which I plan to cover the 180km between Big Bear Lakes and Wrightwood

As I mentioned in my previous posts, the first two weeks of the PCT were eventful with all kinds of experiences. In particular, in my last post “PCT Stage 03: Idyllwild to Big Bear” I was gradually but actively recovering my body, which had proven successful. Additionally, I had to pick up my new backpack! I was really excited about that.

The arriving in Erwin Lakes

Josefina and I decided to exit at the first possible intersection to the town of Big Bear City. This meant leaving the trail in the rural neighborhood along Erwin Lakes. In this area, the houses were estates with an impressive amount of land.

In the area, there weren’t many service establishments, but there was a stop for the red line of the public bus. This bus is free and runs every 30 minutes, so we avoided having to hitchhike to get to the city center.

Upon reaching the city center, we met other hikers who were headed to the post office. I took the opportunity to go with them to understand how the shipping process works, something I would need to do for my broken backpack.

Center of Big Bear Lake

My new backpack 

In my previous post “PCT Stage 03: Idyllwild to Big Bear” I mentioned that while hiking through the Mission Creek area, I broke my backpack while trying to put it on. This happened in a valley, and after an hour of uphill hiking, I reached a ridge where I was able to contact Osprey’s warranty service.

The service was incredible, and Osprey’s special assistance for thru-hikers was surprising. Osprey sent a Volt 65 backpack to Big Bear Lake Sporting Goods, a store in the city of Big Bear Lake. I picked up my new backpack and started looking for accommodation in the city.

Tao Cabin with Mark

I managed to get in touch with Mark, one of the hikers I camped with during the challenging task of overcoming Mission Creek. Mark had arranged to stay at Tao Cabins, a complex of several small apartments on the outskirts of Big Bear City. He said there was room for me there and we could split the room expenses.

I took the red line public bus back to Big Bear City. Once I arrived at Tao Cabins, I met up with Mark. While I began transferring my belongings from one backpack to another, we had some great conversations.

Mark is from Nebraska, a state located near the center of the United States. The geology of his home state is completely different from what we were seeing in the PCT area. Nebraska is known for its flat terrain and strong focus on agriculture. We had extensive conversations on various topics about the United States, and he helped me get closer to understanding the characteristics of how Americans organize themselves.

The organization of the Americans 

The concept of property rights here is very strong, with a lot of respect for the authority that a person holds within their own property. I’ve felt this in every town, house, and hostel I’ve been to here. Once you enter, you’re generally told the rules of the place with a clarity and solidity that makes you realize this aspect of authority within the property you’re in.

Another topic we discussed was gun ownership. For me, it was a very enlightening conversation. Due to my beliefs, customs, and culture, I find it really difficult to understand how someone can have a gun in their home—a weapon so dangerous that it can take a life with the pull of a trigger. I also struggle with the idea of using it if someone enters your property. Of course, I understand it’s a tool for personal protection and that your life and the lives of those you live with could be at risk, but the potential for making a mistake that costs someone’s life, and the weight of taking another human life, would weigh heavily on me.

Talking with Mark helped me understand more about the underlying reasons behind gun ownership, the history of the United States regarding this issue, how it’s regulated, and the responsibility that comes with it. Obviously, there are atrocities that occur, but ultimately, such incidents happen in other areas as well, and as a society, we seek to minimize their impact through rules and regulations.

These kinds of exchanges are among the most valuable things I’m taking away from my experience on the PCT.

Slackpacking Day

In my initial plan to reach Big Bear, I had intended to hike about 15 more miles to enter the city via a highway. This plan changed when I camped with Josefina the night before. She was going to enter via Erwin Lakes, and it seemed like a good idea to me because I didn’t want to continue stressing my recovering body.

But of course, my mind kept spinning that I had exited the trail earlier, so I had to return to that point to complete the PCT 😅.

What I decided to do was to have a day with a light pack—no camping gear, extra clothes, light food, and water only. Looking at the map, I realized I could cover 20 miles under these conditions and return to the comfort of Tao Cabin. This idea seemed excellent to me because it would also mark my first 20-mile day after the damage I had done to my body from poor eating habits.

Walking on Big Bear City streets

I set off towards Erwin Lake, walking through the streets of Big Bear City. I was a little nervous because I hadn’t taken a zero day in the city, but being so close to it meant I could decide to leave the trail at any moment.

The trail after Erwin Lakes was quite uphill, heading towards a ridge. Along this path, I had views of Baldwin Lake, which is the largest lake in the Big Bear City area. On its shore, there was a fairly exclusive residential area visible.

As I walked along the PCT, I passed dream homes, completely isolated, with their own facilities for water and electricity. They were true mansions.

On the other side of the ridge, the landscape was completely desert-like and flat. The PCT was heading westward, gradually moving away from this desert area. I didn’t mind this at all; I knew I would encounter plenty of desert in the future, so I preferred to continue enjoying the trees and lakes for now.

 

The slackpacking day turned out to be a success! I managed to hitch a ride in a jeep back to Big Bear Lake—truly a stroke of luck since the dirt road was deserted. I don’t think regular vehicles could navigate it without needing new shocks afterward.

By the end of the day, I hadn’t reached the full 20 miles but had covered 16 miles in about 5 hours of walking. I felt good, strong, and ready to get back into my rhythm. My plan was to return to the trail the next day and camp at the point where I had left off. But first, I wanted to celebrate in Big Bear Lake, knowing I had overcome the weariness of Saddle Junction—the weariness that had whispered in my mind, “Quit, you are not good enough for this.”

The preparation for the trail

First, I stocked up on supplies generously for the 5 days I estimated it would take me to reach Wrightwood. After that, I was craving vegetables. My girlfriend Caro is vegan, and during our years living together, we ate the same food, so you naturally get used to it. Honestly, I feel better eating vegetables, but don’t tell her because she might get a big head LOL. I found out there was a Himalayan restaurant in Big Bear Lake, so I decided to go there and feast on dishes from those regions.

I indulged in a feast spinach, mushrooms, tofu, tomato sauce, soup, peas, and much more! It felt so, so good to eat this type of food that for my next stops, I’ll continue seeking out these kinds of restaurants in towns. This kind of food isn’t available on the trail, and honestly, it feels really nourishing for the body to eat things like this.

Van Dusten Road

I left Big Bear City in the afternoon with a trail angel who dropped me off at the start of Van Dusten Road. It was the same road I had taken down the day before in a jeep. Unfortunately, I didn’t have an off-road vehicle this time to take me back to the trail. The uphill section was pretty easy, and I simply set up camp at the spot where I had left the PCT. Unlike the previous day, there wasn’t a single tent around to keep me company.

The next day, I started hiking at 6 a.m., as I was used to doing on long-distance days. The trail led through the forest, with dirt paths and just a few patches of snow that didn’t slow me down at all. The trail continued uphill through the woods until, at one point, the trees began to thin out, offering me the first view of Big Bear Lake.

Big Bear Lake is a gem

Seeing the mountain in front of me, with its treeless summit, snow, and the interplay of light and shadow at dawn, was a spectacle on its own. I lowered my gaze and saw the green of thousands of trees, with small houses scattered among them. I had stayed in one of those houses the night before. Now I was far away, saying goodbye to the most beautiful town on the PCT so far.

Ski area in Big Bear Lake

From the trail between Bertha Peak and Delamar Mountain, you really get a sense of the lake’s vastness and the mountain you’re on. I thought the city was huge, but what’s truly massive is the valley and the lake that it’s nestled in. The town is surrounded by the San Bernardino National Forest, and around 5,000 people live there year-round. Historically, this area was inhabited by Native Americans, who found many grizzly bears in the region, giving the place its name, Big Bear. The town saw a surge in population during the Gold Rush in the mid-19th century, and it was around that time that humans wiped out the grizzlies in the area.

As I climbed higher, the trees continued to thin out, giving me an even clearer view of the lake and the different buildings in the city. Living in Big Bear must be a real pleasure. There are plenty of trails to explore in the summer, and I imagine in winter, with all the ski resorts, it must be incredibly fun.

That day, I ended up completing 26 miles and feeling great! That’s a big deal. I was back to carrying weight and covering good distances. My goal isn’t to go fast on the PCT, but to save time for the places I want to spend more time in later along the trail, and why not? Maybe even try to make it to Canada. My reward at the end of the day was hitting 300 miles on the trail (484 km). It had only been 20 days on the PCT, and the kilometers were already adding up. I had never hiked this much in my life; this was already an accomplishment in itself, although at the time, I didn’t fully realize it. All I could think about was keeping on walking, and the mile markers gave me a moment to pause and appreciate how far I had come.

Deep Creek

The next day on the trail followed a valley called Deep Creek. As its name suggests, it’s a V-shaped valley, carved by a strong water flow, with steep sides and surrounded by vegetation.

Hot Springs

Feeling physically recovered again allowed me to refocus on walking and getting back to a steady pace, one that would let me cover more than 20 miles by the end of the day. Around 10 a.m., I reached one of the most notable spots on the entire trail: the famous Deep Creek Hot Springs. This place had a special kind of magic—very laid-back, extremely peaceful, and filled with people who seemed captivated by its charm. The atmosphere was quite private; I respected the area’s vibe and only took one photo from a distance, so as not to disturb the setting, but I can describe it with words.

Description

It’s a wide area with several natural pools. The temperature in the pools depends on how far they are from the main hot water source. This variety of temperatures makes you hop from one pool to another, enjoying different sensations on your body.

In the hotter pools, your body relaxes; you feel a bit sleepy, just wanting to relax and listen to the sounds around you. When you move to the cooler pools, you feel more awake. Your body becomes incredibly comfortable and active, and you feel alive again.

As you move between the pools, you also switch up the people you talk to. The conversations are deep, genuine, and, most importantly, focused on the present, on the experience we were sharing. I remember talking for a long time with Mary, the British girl who lives in Australia, whom I met at the Little Bear Hostel. We both escaped from the hot pools to the cooler ones, trying to shake off the drowsiness and escape the crowd.

Be free

Another amazing aspect of this experience is how people begin to feel free. They start wearing less clothing, and some even embrace total nudity. What’s incredible is that it’s all good! Everyone is relaxed, and it feels perfectly normal. The barriers of shame and discomfort with our bodies fall away. The barriers of sexuality also break down; nothing feels like a sexual invitation. You’re just there, enjoying the place, with your body as exposed as you feel comfortable at that moment. Nobody judges, nobody bothers you; it’s just you and your humanity. I feel like this was the first sign of a feeling that starts to emerge on the trail: the sense of simplicity, that connects you with your ‘self’ and makes you feel whole.

For this and so much more, this place becomes a ‘trap’ where hikers fall in, and time seems to slip away. Some, like me, stayed for an hour, while others camped there for weeks. I totally understand why people stayed longer; the place calls you, inviting you to enjoy this environmental and social oasis. In my case, I decided to move on because my goal of progressing on the trail is what drives me. Continuing this adventure is my motivation, and I’m enjoying it along the way. Once I felt like I had experienced the place enough, I said my goodbyes to the other hikers, packed my bag, and kept walking.

The beauty of walking through valleys

Every section, landscape, and geology of a trail has its own beauty to share. It’s as if nature is competing to show what it can offer in each different zone. In the case of Deep Creek Valley, it’s a corridor of life, a place where life and desert meet. I’m not sure how to place you there, but I’ll try. Imagine walking for days through a dry area with little water, and suddenly entering a zone where animals and flowers start to appear.

The colors of the flowers start to play their role, beautifying the landscape and adding vibrancy. After walking for miles and miles through dry areas where the yellow of the sandy soil and the occasional green of the shrubs dominate, coming across these purples is a feast for the eyes and offers much-needed variety. Even the animals here are more colorful—the iridescent lizards are a perfect example.

Seeing the lizards brought me back to my everyday life. The way these animals move when they’re still is quite funny; it looks like they’re doing push-ups. The reason this reminded me of my daily life is that in Uruguay, we commonly refer to push-ups as ‘lagartijas,’ in honor of the movement lizards make when they’re stationary.

Street ‘art’

Like everything in life, there are beautiful things, not-so-beautiful things, and things you don’t agree with. This is exactly what happened to me on the trail that day. After relaxing in the hot springs and enjoying the colors of nature, I took a path that was not only used by PCT hikers. The foot traffic on this stretch of trail was quite high, primarily due to a trailhead near a road that allowed people to enter and enjoy the beauty of Deep Creek. Most of these visitors don’t make it to the hot springs, as it’s a considerable distance if you’re just doing day hikes.

I wholeheartedly agree and love that people can access these magical mountain spots, but when I came across the following scene, I felt sad and angry.

The high foot traffic allows access to people who don’t think like I do and who don’t view these environments as reserved and wondrous. That’s why I understand why they make these graffiti on the rocks, leaving their mark on stones that have been there long before humanity existed. Honestly, I don’t consider this art; it’s bringing urban street culture into a natural setting that has survived countless natural events: storms, snow, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions. Those markings on the stones only disturb the natural environment, showcasing the human touch and what we’re capable of doing. I don’t want to delve further into this; I just want to say that I don’t agree with that way of experiencing these places. Long live the ‘Leave No Trace’ culture!’.

Flat zone

That day was feeling long. After leaving Deep Creek, the climb had been tough; the heat of the day had taken its toll on my shoulders and worn me out. But that’s something the PCT was training me for: if I kept walking, things would happen, and changes in the landscape were one of them. I crossed the ridge and saw a huge flat area with a highway. The trail was heading down that way, which meant a reduction in effort.

The day was coming to an end; I knew I had just one more climb to reach my goal: Silverwood Lake!

Wall Stone

I continued my descent, which led me to the highway. Curiously, the PCT runs alongside the road for quite a stretch in that area; it was my first time walking for so long next to one. The final climb was approaching; I was practically at the southern shore of Silverwood Lake when something caught my attention: a wall of stones, clearly man-made. I began to suspect that Silverwood Lake was a human-created lake and that this wall was preventing the water from spilling into the flat area I was walking on.

Reaching the Lake

Finally, one step after another, I climbed the slope and arrived at the lake. It was the end of my day.

Sunrise at Silverwood Lake

The day before, I had been extremely worn out; I had set up my tent precariously in the space next to the camping table. However, despite everything, I managed to rest and wake up early. Waking up early rewards you with magnificent views from the colors of the sky. In this case, the sunrise at Silverwood Lake was a breathtaking spectacle that filled you with energy to start the day.

This lake is a massive reservoir that is part of California’s aqueduct system. It was created to store water that is transported across the Mojave Desert to the city of Los Angeles. This reserve provides stability to the drinking water supply system for cities. My engineering background makes me analyze these kinds of places. The size of the lake is truly overwhelming; in fact, it’s also used for tourism purposes, with boating activities and numerous trails along its shores. One of these trails is part of my journey from Mexico to Canada, it’s part of my dream of the Pacific Crest Trail.

Wrightwood in Sight

Leaving Silverwood Lake, I encountered the relentless ups and downs of the desert. It’s amazing that these deserts have such high mountains and vegetation. One of these climbs rewarded me with a view of some snow-capped peaks. Naturally, they caught my attention, and I pulled out my phone to find out what those peaks were.

It turned out to be the mountain range surrounding the city of Wrightwood, my next destination. It’s truly exciting when you manage to decipher where you’re headed. You feel joy, pride, and, at the same time, nerves because everything seems so far away. Those distances feel unattainable; it seems like too much! But it’s incredible how, step by step, you get closer to your goal.

The snow-capped mountain in the background was also one of my goals to summit: Mt. Baden Powell. None of the hikers I had spoken to were planning to attempt that summit; everyone was going to avoid it due to the snow accumulation. Anxiety began to take over; I wanted to do it—I had taken a mountaineering course for this. My mind wandered to that dilemma, but the trail quickly brought me back to the present, with its sudden descents that made my quads numb. In that moment, I told myself, “A problem for the future Roadrunner; right now, you have to get down this.”

Cajon Pass

This hellish descent ended at a massive highway visible in the distance. Upon reaching it, I realized I had arrived at one of the iconic places in the U.S.: the famous Route 66.

This historic route connects the central-eastern part of the country with the west coast, stretching nearly 4,000 km—practically the same distance I intend to cover on the PCT, but in a perpendicular direction. Realizing this began to give me a sense of the vast distances in this country; to put it simply, it’s absolutely enormous. This route gained fame because it allowed for the development of multiple towns along its path, as it was one of the first arteries facilitating the movement of people to the west coast of the United States.

To be honest, being on Route 66 didn’t excite me much. I understand its importance and fame, but I’m someone who appreciates nature more than human creations.

Yet, there was something that stirred me about arriving at this route, something I hadn’t anticipated would affect me so deeply.

McDonalds

McDonald’s… that magical place that, for some reason, we loved as kids. I don’t know if it’s because of the burgers, the fries, Ronald, or whatever it is, but there’s something that drives us wild as children. As an adult, I developed a strong aversion to this place; I simply didn’t like it at all. I think my repulsion came from being against such large companies that are spread all over the world. I don’t like that much power; I prefer to give my money to small local businesses, where the final destination of my money is more visible.

Anyway, on the trail, I didn’t care much about these complex prejudices in my mind; I just went and had a McCombo. Honestly, it was fine, but it wasn’t the same as when I was a kid. The burger tasted very artificial, the texture was cardboard-like, and the meat crumbled in my mouth. It seems that as I get older, my palate is becoming more discerning.

Hikers getting the hand sanitizer

The “hiker trash” moment of the day went to my friend Purple :). She was trying to refill her hand sanitizer bottle to take it on the trail. The hand sanitizer vending machine was working inconsistently, so you had to be extremely quick and skillful to catch the elusive liquid before it ended up on the floor. Well, I guess we weren’t fast enough, and we ended up cleaning up the remnants of that product spread all over the ground.

The Water Cache

Water Cache after Route 66

At McDonald’s, I filled my maximum water capacity: 6 liters, which adds 6 kg to my pack. The reason? The virtually nonexistent water sources for two days until reaching Wrightwood. But here’s the magic: the Water Caches! There are such generous people along this trail who take the time to fill water jugs and transport them to these remote points, giving hikers extra options that ease our journey.

My gratitude towards them is immense; I can’t explain the joy you feel when you’re thirsty, carrying so much water, and yet you have to control your consumption because the stretches are too long without it. Coming across this water is a blessing, and I feel like I got a glimpse of what people without access to clean water experience. Those heartbreaking images we see on our screens of people in desperate need of water—a reality that chills you to the bone—men, women, and children longing for a little help from those unsung heroes.

It makes you think about how, in other parts of the world, we have this resource in excess, to the point that we waste it and undermine its quality. At the start of my journey, I learned just how fortunate I am to have this resource at my fingertips every day of my life.

The Beginning of a Habit

Register books are something wonderful. Even though we live in the age of telecommunications, that reality is mainly in cities; on the trail, you can’t communicate in real time with everyone. In this sense, register books become a tool for communication among hikers. It’s like reading a history book; you learn when a hiker you know passed through. You notice names that recur, sometimes feeling closer to you and other times more distant. You find yourself imagining what the person behind that fun trail name is like. As you read the messages left by fellow hikers, it creates a beautiful and unique moment in this experience, connecting you to the world around you.

Over time, I’ve solidified my signature: the date, my trail name, and my country. Proud to be from that lost land in the south called Uruguay! As I mentioned in my previous post, my experience with Mamma Bear left a lasting impression on me. That almost divine coincidence, that invisible thread weaving our destinies together, came to me in the form of a metal tag from that incredible woman. “Never Give Up.”

The power of that phrase, combined with what it means as my mantra, led me to solidify my signature and my message for the hikers coming behind me. In my mind, it was like giving a little piece of energy to those other souls sharing this overwhelmingly long path. Giving them a spark of energy to feel that message means so much to me. From the depths of my being, I want them to not give up and to keep fighting for their dream of being here.

The engineer that lives in me

Thinking in times, equations and life

At the end of that day, I decided to tackle a 600-meter elevation gain. It was already quite late, but my mind wouldn’t let me stop. The reason was simple: I had been using my account to track my hiking times and realized that if I didn’t make this climb, it would be very difficult to reach Wrightwood in two days. During that entire uphill stretch, I recorded a video explaining the time calculation methods I learned at Azimutrek and how I was applying them daily on the trail. Anyway, Roadrunner couldn’t shake off his engineering side; that part of me is always present.

I’m excited to learn and deeply understand things. This ability we humans have to abstract and try to model the reality around us is what has allowed us to climb to the top of the food chain. It’s a huge achievement for humanity. I believe it’s time for us, as a society, to move towards new horizons and recognize the damage we’re causing to the planet. It’s time to use our vast capacity to stop excessively consuming resources. We urgently need to slow down that feeling of needing to consume. And I say ‘feeling of need’ because in these weeks on the PCT, I’ve realized that everything I need to live fits into a 65-liter backpack, not in a 300,000-liter house.

On the way to Wrightwood

The day to reach Wrightwood finally arrived, the day to return to a city. With my body recovered, I had started making good miles again and moving forward with confidence and security. It was my 25th day on the Pacific Crest Trail, May 5th. Arriving in Wrightwood meant climbing back up the mountains surrounding the city. This meant facing the snow once again. After climbing Mt. San Jacinto, I had started to lose my fear of snow. Plus, in the next section, I had an even greater challenge ahead that nearly no hikers wanted to tackle: the summit of MT Baden Powell.

Based on my previous experiences on the trail, it’s always best to aim to reach town before 5 p.m. If that’s not possible, it’s better to camp at the trailhead and head into town the next day. I wanted to get to Wrightwood that same day, which meant I had to cover 20 miles with a 1300-meter elevation gain. Before the PCT, a distance like that would take me about 9 hours, not counting any delays from potential snow around Wright Mountain (2600 meters). I noticed I was walking a bit faster than before, but I didn’t want to take any chances, so I decided to start hiking at 4 a.m. to arrive in town around 1 p.m.

The morning

A common saying in Uruguay is, ‘Al que madruga Dios lo ayuda‘ a similar saying in english is “The early bird catches the worm,” and this morning, I really felt that. Starting with a gentle ascent and practically no one on the trail, I began to see the silhouettes of the mountains as the first light of the sun emerged

I’ve always loved sunrise and consider myself a morning person. I work out in the mornings and have a habit of studying during that time. Even on weekends, I wake up early. While I don’t enjoy hiking at night, the moment when the flashlight is no longer needed and the first birds begin to sing is truly magical, and I love to soak it in. However, I don’t do this every day, as it can be tough to get up in the cold morning and break down camp without light.

THE sunrise

But that day was going to be special; the scene was set for a spectacular sunrise. There were clouds, a busy road, and a city with clear patches. All that was left was to wait for the sun..

Finally, the moment arrived: the sun rose above the mountains, as it does every day. It won the height battle against those immense rock formations I admire and walk among. Thanks to that and a delicate, almost divine balance, life exists on our planet, along with our food and all the forms of energy we consume. Everything comes from the sun, which gifts us daily with stunning displays that never cease to captivate me. I took a pause and enjoyed the scenery for several minutes, snapping photos in an attempt to capture the wonder before my eyes.

With the sun resting on the mountains, the I-15 highway, filled with vehicles, stretched out like an endless road toward that sun and the base of the mountains where I stood. On the highway, the car lights were barely visible; moments ago, they were the only thing to see, but the sun’s power is so magnificent that it can overshadow all of humanity’s creations. This display made waking up early worth it.

The trail continued to ascend, and to my pleasant surprise, there was no snow accumulated on the path. The melting process from the recent warm days had progressed significantly, allowing me to keep climbing toward Wrightwood.

Unexpected encounters

I was able to get past the snow without any issues; the day was cool, and since I had started early, the snow was very firm. Even when I passed the ski resort in the area, the snow was completely melted around the chairlift zone. It was an easy end to the day as I made my way to Inspiration Point Trailhead, where I met up with my good friend, the old speedy one, the person I had been looking forward to hiking with. I finally met up with High Five.

He was at Inspiration Point, ready to get back on the trail. He had already passed through Wrightwood and was starting from there. Like most of the other hikers, my friend High Five wasn’t planning to hike up Mount Baden Powell. Honestly, that made me doubt whether I could do it, but I decided it was something I would figure out in Wrightwood.

He stayed to wait for my ride to Acorn Cabin, where I would be staying in town. The reason I chose that place was simple: it was the most economical option I found. I was supposed to sleep doing cowboy camping in the yard, but that was no problem.

I coordinated the ride with Mandy, the owner of Acorn Cabin. When the car arrived at Inspiration Point, I noticed that Mandy was a man, not a woman. But without thinking too much, I got into the car. I greeted him and thanked him for picking me up. He clarified that he was Mandy’s husband; she was traveling at that moment, and he was in charge of everything.

The end

There was something familiar about him, something that felt close to home. As we drove toward the city, I asked for his name, and he replied, “Diego.” My first thought was, “OH MY GOD, how can an American be named Diego? That’s so unusual.” Then, my brain slowly started to piece together that similarity, and I said in English, “Oh, you have the same name as me,” but my curiosity and intuition got the better of me, and I asked in Spanish, “I’m Uruguayan and my name is Diego too. Where are you from?” With his answer, I understood why I felt that sense of familiarity.

He replied, “Soy Argentino” 🙂