Runaway Train

Ten years ago, I was staying at a hostel in Buenos Aires. I was nearly five months into what would be a six month backpacking trip through South America. Things were not going so well. Repeated illnesses revealed that my constitution was too fragile for the continent. I began longing for the home I eagerly left behind, or at least somewhere more comfortable, but my ego pushed me to continue. I didn’t want to appear like a quitter, and I still needed material for the book I planned on writing...