Studio 40

"A smile is the only language that everyone understands.” I heard that quote years ago; however, it has echoed through my mind every day since then. The power of a smile is profound; it not only brightens days with optimism but also communicates unspoken connections between people. Some argue that we have different personalities in each language. I can't vouch for distinct personalities, but I surely express myself differently. When skeptical about my wording, I smile. I trust that smiles can fill in gaps in vocabulary, and so do images. The irony lies in taking a photo, as it often prompts a smile.

Such a quote impacted me drastically as I proceeded to go on a road trip to Patagonia with my father in 2016. We had a beaten-up car, camping gear, and just enough money to live off empanadas. We were doing a pilot photography project. No one really believed we would make 6,000 km in a 1994 Suzuki, not even my mom. Other photographers doubted the marketability of the project. However, we were optimistic about it and firmly believed that we had many smiles to meet and capture. The purpose of that trip was to take portraits of the people we would come across, print them, and write on the back, noting the impact they had on us.

Ruta 40 became our studio—where adventurers left their comfort zones to pursue dreams and conquer goals. There, I met an Italian who had quit his job in the navy. 'Ready? 1, 2, 3..!' I noted my admiration for his humbleness on the back of his printed photo. We also came across a Dutch man who taught us about his holiday traditions. 'Smile!' On his picture, I wrote my email, asking him to send me his hare recipe. Later, we saw three boys hitchhiking. In the car, they told us about their journey from Alaska to Ushuaia. We dropped them off and 'Look at the lenses!' 'You guys inspired me to push my body's limits; I will try that on my next hike. Thanks for the tips on blisters,' I wrote to them.

In retrospect, I believe that by turning a work trip into a father-daughter expedition, my father aimed to show me the inherent goodness in people. I learned that our legacy begins when we impact others. Today, I carry the legacy of many travelers who smiled at me. In twenty years, I couldn't bear to look back at photos and not see a genuine smile, on my face or in my surroundings. A smile that transcribes gratitude, admiration, faith, and many other sentiments that you can't precisely put into words, in any language. Now, I open my dear National Geographic Magazine and encounter the portrait I captured of my father; a smile graces my face, transcribing saudade—a Portuguese word that defies translation but always leaves me smiling.

Thoughts...?