They don’t believe in price lists:
When inquiring about the monthly, weekly, or yearly prices for membership- be it membership to a gym, a library- or perhaps the schedule and prices for touristy adventure packages like boat rides at Iguazu, you will never be handed a set price list. More often than not, the person behind the counter will take an existing leaflet or flyer, and in between its blank spaces will proceed to WRITE OUT the prices, time schedules, or whatever other information you are asking for.
The reason for this is as unknown to me as it was to the people I inquired about it to. Perhaps the economy has induced such a frequent need to augment prices that it has become economical to not print price sheets because they change so often. Or, and perhaps more culturally appropriate, they feel that they have a better chance to sell you their product (membership, tourist package) if they can explain to you exactly what you’ll be getting by purchasing their service.
To me, it seemed like a waste of time- everytime. Todo el mundo (“everyone” in Spanish: one of my favorite translations) comes into gyms inquiring about prices, tempting themselves into seeing just how much they would be willing to fork over for their New Years resolution. And thus every time one of these hesitant hopefuls feels reinspired to change their lives, the person behind the desk needs to take around 3:30 min to explain to them their membership package. Is this the inner American in me? The one that doesnt have 3:30min to spend, when all im seeking is a cost-benefit analysis, which can usually be achieved without interpersonal interaction. Clearly I welcome the Spanish conversation, but speaking from a more time-is-money perspective, I guess I have yet to appreciate their custom service approach.
martes, 6 de abril de 2010
viernes, 19 de marzo de 2010
CARNIVAL, life in buenos aires, IGUAZU y misiones de San Ignacio
So in all honesty, there should have been 2 blog entries between this and the last but I guess I just got caught up in life, and in watching TOO MANY episodes of house.
2 weekends ago was the last weekend of carnival. Here in argentina, the festivities are nothing like those in Brazil or even Uruguay, but we did hear of one place on the border with Uruguay that threw down pretty hard, so on Friday 3/5, Sam and I booked it for Retiro and caught a lateish bus. We got to gualeguaychú at around 11, pregamed in the hotel for awhile and then joined the jovenes on the streets for a fun night of dancing to samba beats. We got home at around 4, woke up at 12 to checkout, and then headed to the campsite Solar del Este, which a Argentinean friend had recommended to me. Good man, good recommendation. We set up shop, drunk some H20, and then headed out to the rio to join the early risers/early drinkers. We partied on the beach until we needed to refuel with some lunch, so we trekked into town to buy a cooler, ice, sandwich supplies and beer. We continued lounging and drinking on the beach until we followed the loungers to where it was cooler. Sprinklers cooled our bodies as we rocked out to black eyes peas and guetta for hours.
sprinkers/rave party at the rio, solar del este, gualeguaychú- CARNIVAL
alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450524212711195506" />
PARTY ON THE BEACH
Siesta, dinner with our tent neighbors, post-dinner siesta, and then FERRNET AND COLA- the national drink of argentina. Besides maté and vino tinto… apparently it’s just another digestive aid- man, these argentineans are really health conscious? But more like digestive conscious- because of all that meat they consume. Our bus back to Buenos aires was leaving at 11pm the next day so we spent the day nursing our hangovers in the sun, roaming the quaint town of gualeguaychú and drinking maté.
i paid $1 to try on the traditional costumes that the paraders wear for carnival
On Tuesday and Wednesday I had orientation. Nothing really to comment on. All of the information we were given was intelligible, except the immigration proceedings, which are ridiculously tedious. Here they have Facultads. Which is to say that each school (for example, arts and sciences, business etc) has its own building and really functions independently of the other facultads. But there are more facultabs than just business and architecture- for example, arts and sciences is broken down into 4-5 facultads. Because of this (or maybe not) the whole system of finding which classes to take, and signing up for them is actually really confusing/stressful. Some facultads made their class schedules available weeks ago, and others not until the day before classes. Thus, it was impossible to know if your classes schedules conflicted.
On Wednesday I went to an asado at Hostel Puerto Limon in San Telmo (highly recommend!!) that some german girls from my Spanish school had invited me to. The tender to the asado was an asado enthusiast who prided himself on his craft- as he well should. He converted me to the dark side- I can now proudly say I am a fan of mojilla (blood sausage)…but it did take 4 tries. After dinner me and the german girls got trensas, danced salsa, and put back a good number of Quilmes liters before heading home.
getting my trensa at puerto de limon hostel
On Friday I finished classes at B.A Spanish school with two certificates…hmmm, im just rackin’ in the hours. On Saturday, I met up with the german girls in Palermo. We had planned to spend the day shopping and I was going to show them my Saturday-Palermo-shopping route but they told me of a benefit concert for Chile. ARGENTINA ABRAZO A CHILE. The concert was free, provided a food donation so we stopped at the market and then joined the crowds at the bus stop. The concert was really moving, the music was great, and the clima was perfect. The park where the concert took place had an awesome familiarity to central park..the day was incredible overall.
Afterwards I met cara gerstle at her resedencia and we went for margaritas and tacos with another girl from her program. On Sunday I walked san telmo market, as per usual, with sam and anabelle (girl from his program) and a Venezuelan girl that she lives with.
9pm Monday- after 4 hours of history with Ana at 9am, a 2pm stop at retiro to buy my ticket, a 4pm oral placement exam……..i boarded the overnight bus to iguazu. I arrived at around 2pm the following day, and conveniently found that my hostel was located DIRECTLY across from the bus station- its not as bad as it sounds. I happened to meet a really interesting Italian/Spanish couple on the last 2 hours of my ride who helped me plan my entire biketrip through spain…so I guess that was more fruitful than catching up on sleep. i spent the rest of the day bumming around the pueblo of Puerto iguazu until 9ish when my friend Sven said he would be arriving.
Background story on sven: GET READY.
Sven and I hiked in Guatemala together. We both signed up for a 7 day trek with Quetaltrekkers, a popular nonprofit in Xela (where I spent last summer studying Spanish) that takes people on great hikes (volcano taculmuco, lago atílan etc) and the profits go to funding a student hogar and school for street kids. Sven and his travel buddy Ulf (Germans, obviously) intended to travel for a year. Fast forward to last week when I was planning the trip. Most of my BA friends have started classes, and even though I was more than willing to go by myself, I thought id put the message out there that I was looking for someone to go with. “Anyone want to go to iguazu from Monday to Friday,” read the facebook message. Nothing more. And luck have it, I got a response from sven saying that he would be there on wednesday- THE EXACT DAY THAT I WAS PLANNING TO DO THE PARK- NUTS!
Then, another guy named harry responds, saying that HE IS GOING TO BE IN THE PARK ON WEDNESDAY TOO. The background story with harry is that we met in a hostel in bariloche. The truth is, I had arrived in Bariloche sans guidebook, hotel reservations, hiking routes- NOTHING. So after settling down at hotel PUDU and showering for the first time in 36 hrs, I met Harry who is encircled with guidebooks. I asked him if I could have a look, we got to talking, and then happened to do circuito chico together the following day. I ended up getting sick later that day and never seeing/hearing from harry again………until now. So great. Now I have two blond travel partners for Iguazu….all courtesy of facebook.
BUT WAIT, it gets better. Then I look and see that me and harry have one mutual friend- SVEN?!?!? So I write to harry to ask how in the world he knows Sven and, APPARENTLY, they had met in bariloche a couple of days before harry and I had met, and SVEN HAD GIVEN HARRY THE EXACT GUIDEBOOKS THAT HARRY AND I LOOKED AT TOGETHER… that’s creepily cosmic no?
So I bummed around Igauzu waiting for sven and came back to the hostel at around 7 to check word. Im waiting to use the computer and I see this familiar looking blond chick and I try and think how I know her. I realize that we had met in bariloche and had dinner together one night at the Israeli hostel because she was randomly friends with the Israeli girls that I met on the same biketrip I did with Harry. But in that split second, I didn’t have the courage to say anything…so I let it pass. Later I go to my room and there she is- sleeping in the bunkbed below me!??!? She was exiting the bathroom and I go- “uh……do you remember me??!?” Really slick, I know. Anyway, we end up enjoying happy hour together, and later chatting over drinks with his guy who was preparing her a birthday dinner.
Sven joined us later, at which point I was surrounded by 3 BLOND GERMANS…apparently that’s a very infrequent ratio in this part of the world. I don’t doubt it.
The next day, sven and I wake up to go to the falls. Let it be known, Marcopolo inn hostel in Puerto iguazu has the best breakfast spread ive found in all of argentina! The bus was incredibly cheap ($AR 10 ida y vuelta) considering how much they could charge. Park entrance was $85 for foreigners (=$23) and the 12 minute boat ride was 100, but in all honesty, the waterfalls were really incredible.
me at the CATARATAS DE IGUAZU
view from the boat
soaked from the cataratas
My only complaint was the masses of people who made it impossible to simply stare at the cataratas and take in the immensity of their natural wonder. There is a Sheraton on the actual park grounds, and although im not certain if hotel guests can view the park after hours, I would guess they would be allowed. In which case, if I had the money, I would say the intimacy is worth every penny; I imagine the sunrise alone would compensate for just about any price. After the park we napped and went out for a parilla for 2 and I left for san Ignacio on a 9:45 bus the next day.
San igacio is about 4 hours south of Puerto Igauzu and only an hour north of Posadas, where I would be taking my overnight bus to back to Buenos aires. The regional climate is much closer to that of central America, so walking around the hot, red clay pueblo of san Ignacio made me miss El Salvador greatly. The town is small but the bus drops you off right infront of the town travel agency, which employs some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I met a guy from spain on the bus who was also planning to tour the ruins, so I tagged along on his adventure, or his on mine…w/e. He was a 30 year old lawyer from valenica-- At this point with my Spanish, im definitely able to meet and converse for long periods of time with Spanish speakers, but effectively, theyre doing most of the talking- which is strange for me, but at the same time comforting. We toured the ruins for about an hour- it was an incredibly moving pasea.
missiones in san igancio
The craziest thing about these ruins (despite the actual history) is that there is a living, breathing pueblo that completely surrounds one of the most interesting and well-preserved ruins ive ever seen. For example, with Mayan or Aztec temple ruins, you’d never find a city population within 10km…so this was just bizarre- ancient and modern in direct juxtaposition.
in the distance "HOTEL"
MODEL OF THE RUINS from the museum
Afterwards, nearly overrun with heat exhaustion, we stopped for some pizza and beer, and then continued to the opposite side of town to visit the house of Argentinean writer Horacio Quiroga- in part because we heard that his house had an incredible view of the river.
house of horacio
We never found the river, but the walk was pleasant enough. I caught my bus to Posadas and then to Buenos Aires and arrived home at around 1pm. All in all, excellent viaje!
2 weekends ago was the last weekend of carnival. Here in argentina, the festivities are nothing like those in Brazil or even Uruguay, but we did hear of one place on the border with Uruguay that threw down pretty hard, so on Friday 3/5, Sam and I booked it for Retiro and caught a lateish bus. We got to gualeguaychú at around 11, pregamed in the hotel for awhile and then joined the jovenes on the streets for a fun night of dancing to samba beats. We got home at around 4, woke up at 12 to checkout, and then headed to the campsite Solar del Este, which a Argentinean friend had recommended to me. Good man, good recommendation. We set up shop, drunk some H20, and then headed out to the rio to join the early risers/early drinkers. We partied on the beach until we needed to refuel with some lunch, so we trekked into town to buy a cooler, ice, sandwich supplies and beer. We continued lounging and drinking on the beach until we followed the loungers to where it was cooler. Sprinklers cooled our bodies as we rocked out to black eyes peas and guetta for hours.
sprinkers/rave party at the rio, solar del este, gualeguaychú- CARNIVAL
alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450524212711195506" />PARTY ON THE BEACH
Siesta, dinner with our tent neighbors, post-dinner siesta, and then FERRNET AND COLA- the national drink of argentina. Besides maté and vino tinto… apparently it’s just another digestive aid- man, these argentineans are really health conscious? But more like digestive conscious- because of all that meat they consume. Our bus back to Buenos aires was leaving at 11pm the next day so we spent the day nursing our hangovers in the sun, roaming the quaint town of gualeguaychú and drinking maté.
i paid $1 to try on the traditional costumes that the paraders wear for carnival
On Tuesday and Wednesday I had orientation. Nothing really to comment on. All of the information we were given was intelligible, except the immigration proceedings, which are ridiculously tedious. Here they have Facultads. Which is to say that each school (for example, arts and sciences, business etc) has its own building and really functions independently of the other facultads. But there are more facultabs than just business and architecture- for example, arts and sciences is broken down into 4-5 facultads. Because of this (or maybe not) the whole system of finding which classes to take, and signing up for them is actually really confusing/stressful. Some facultads made their class schedules available weeks ago, and others not until the day before classes. Thus, it was impossible to know if your classes schedules conflicted.
On Wednesday I went to an asado at Hostel Puerto Limon in San Telmo (highly recommend!!) that some german girls from my Spanish school had invited me to. The tender to the asado was an asado enthusiast who prided himself on his craft- as he well should. He converted me to the dark side- I can now proudly say I am a fan of mojilla (blood sausage)…but it did take 4 tries. After dinner me and the german girls got trensas, danced salsa, and put back a good number of Quilmes liters before heading home.
getting my trensa at puerto de limon hostel
On Friday I finished classes at B.A Spanish school with two certificates…hmmm, im just rackin’ in the hours. On Saturday, I met up with the german girls in Palermo. We had planned to spend the day shopping and I was going to show them my Saturday-Palermo-shopping route but they told me of a benefit concert for Chile. ARGENTINA ABRAZO A CHILE. The concert was free, provided a food donation so we stopped at the market and then joined the crowds at the bus stop. The concert was really moving, the music was great, and the clima was perfect. The park where the concert took place had an awesome familiarity to central park..the day was incredible overall.
Afterwards I met cara gerstle at her resedencia and we went for margaritas and tacos with another girl from her program. On Sunday I walked san telmo market, as per usual, with sam and anabelle (girl from his program) and a Venezuelan girl that she lives with.
9pm Monday- after 4 hours of history with Ana at 9am, a 2pm stop at retiro to buy my ticket, a 4pm oral placement exam……..i boarded the overnight bus to iguazu. I arrived at around 2pm the following day, and conveniently found that my hostel was located DIRECTLY across from the bus station- its not as bad as it sounds. I happened to meet a really interesting Italian/Spanish couple on the last 2 hours of my ride who helped me plan my entire biketrip through spain…so I guess that was more fruitful than catching up on sleep. i spent the rest of the day bumming around the pueblo of Puerto iguazu until 9ish when my friend Sven said he would be arriving.
Background story on sven: GET READY.
Sven and I hiked in Guatemala together. We both signed up for a 7 day trek with Quetaltrekkers, a popular nonprofit in Xela (where I spent last summer studying Spanish) that takes people on great hikes (volcano taculmuco, lago atílan etc) and the profits go to funding a student hogar and school for street kids. Sven and his travel buddy Ulf (Germans, obviously) intended to travel for a year. Fast forward to last week when I was planning the trip. Most of my BA friends have started classes, and even though I was more than willing to go by myself, I thought id put the message out there that I was looking for someone to go with. “Anyone want to go to iguazu from Monday to Friday,” read the facebook message. Nothing more. And luck have it, I got a response from sven saying that he would be there on wednesday- THE EXACT DAY THAT I WAS PLANNING TO DO THE PARK- NUTS!
Then, another guy named harry responds, saying that HE IS GOING TO BE IN THE PARK ON WEDNESDAY TOO. The background story with harry is that we met in a hostel in bariloche. The truth is, I had arrived in Bariloche sans guidebook, hotel reservations, hiking routes- NOTHING. So after settling down at hotel PUDU and showering for the first time in 36 hrs, I met Harry who is encircled with guidebooks. I asked him if I could have a look, we got to talking, and then happened to do circuito chico together the following day. I ended up getting sick later that day and never seeing/hearing from harry again………until now. So great. Now I have two blond travel partners for Iguazu….all courtesy of facebook.
BUT WAIT, it gets better. Then I look and see that me and harry have one mutual friend- SVEN?!?!? So I write to harry to ask how in the world he knows Sven and, APPARENTLY, they had met in bariloche a couple of days before harry and I had met, and SVEN HAD GIVEN HARRY THE EXACT GUIDEBOOKS THAT HARRY AND I LOOKED AT TOGETHER… that’s creepily cosmic no?
So I bummed around Igauzu waiting for sven and came back to the hostel at around 7 to check word. Im waiting to use the computer and I see this familiar looking blond chick and I try and think how I know her. I realize that we had met in bariloche and had dinner together one night at the Israeli hostel because she was randomly friends with the Israeli girls that I met on the same biketrip I did with Harry. But in that split second, I didn’t have the courage to say anything…so I let it pass. Later I go to my room and there she is- sleeping in the bunkbed below me!??!? She was exiting the bathroom and I go- “uh……do you remember me??!?” Really slick, I know. Anyway, we end up enjoying happy hour together, and later chatting over drinks with his guy who was preparing her a birthday dinner.
Sven joined us later, at which point I was surrounded by 3 BLOND GERMANS…apparently that’s a very infrequent ratio in this part of the world. I don’t doubt it.
The next day, sven and I wake up to go to the falls. Let it be known, Marcopolo inn hostel in Puerto iguazu has the best breakfast spread ive found in all of argentina! The bus was incredibly cheap ($AR 10 ida y vuelta) considering how much they could charge. Park entrance was $85 for foreigners (=$23) and the 12 minute boat ride was 100, but in all honesty, the waterfalls were really incredible.
me at the CATARATAS DE IGUAZU
view from the boat
soaked from the cataratas
My only complaint was the masses of people who made it impossible to simply stare at the cataratas and take in the immensity of their natural wonder. There is a Sheraton on the actual park grounds, and although im not certain if hotel guests can view the park after hours, I would guess they would be allowed. In which case, if I had the money, I would say the intimacy is worth every penny; I imagine the sunrise alone would compensate for just about any price. After the park we napped and went out for a parilla for 2 and I left for san Ignacio on a 9:45 bus the next day.
San igacio is about 4 hours south of Puerto Igauzu and only an hour north of Posadas, where I would be taking my overnight bus to back to Buenos aires. The regional climate is much closer to that of central America, so walking around the hot, red clay pueblo of san Ignacio made me miss El Salvador greatly. The town is small but the bus drops you off right infront of the town travel agency, which employs some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I met a guy from spain on the bus who was also planning to tour the ruins, so I tagged along on his adventure, or his on mine…w/e. He was a 30 year old lawyer from valenica-- At this point with my Spanish, im definitely able to meet and converse for long periods of time with Spanish speakers, but effectively, theyre doing most of the talking- which is strange for me, but at the same time comforting. We toured the ruins for about an hour- it was an incredibly moving pasea.
missiones in san igancio
The craziest thing about these ruins (despite the actual history) is that there is a living, breathing pueblo that completely surrounds one of the most interesting and well-preserved ruins ive ever seen. For example, with Mayan or Aztec temple ruins, you’d never find a city population within 10km…so this was just bizarre- ancient and modern in direct juxtaposition.
in the distance "HOTEL"
MODEL OF THE RUINS from the museum
Afterwards, nearly overrun with heat exhaustion, we stopped for some pizza and beer, and then continued to the opposite side of town to visit the house of Argentinean writer Horacio Quiroga- in part because we heard that his house had an incredible view of the river.
house of horacio
We never found the river, but the walk was pleasant enough. I caught my bus to Posadas and then to Buenos Aires and arrived home at around 1pm. All in all, excellent viaje!
lunes, 1 de marzo de 2010
okay. so. i posted the pictures of my trip in the patagonia to the wrong post. the reason is simple. it takes a while to load the pictures...a good hour dedicated to waiting around while pictures load. thus i write the entry separately, and when i have time, i sit around and watch a circle spin round and round until the 5 pictures/cycle load. absentmindedly, i loaded my trip pictures to the wrong post. forgive me.
life back in buenos aires
Ive been back in buenos aires for a little over a week now. I started Spanish clases last Wednesday, but today will mark the start of my first full week. I tested into Spanish intermediate 2, which is probably not an appropriate level to be studying abroad but fuck em. This week, ill do 3 classes of grammar, and additionally, I signed up for a one-on-one thematic intensive about argentinian politics, history, and sociology; I thought it might be better to start hearing more academic words when I can still ask questions about them, rather than when im in a large lecture.
This weekend I had plans to go Gualeguaychú and celebrate carnival in the only place in argentina that celebrates. Gualeguaychú is right on the border with Uruguay, and is about 4-5 hours north of Buenos aires. However, when I woke up on Saturday morning, I heard about the quake in chile and was too preoccupied with safety/too distraught about cate to leave BA. Also, one of my roommates is from Santiago, which is where her son and family live so I was anxious to talk to her and make sure everything was okay…and yes, everything is okay on all ends.
Later that day, I took the 12 (I am slowly mastering the colectivos) to Palermo for some typical soho shopping. It was shocking how much Palermo reminded me of soho on a beautiful spring day. The most beautiful people, lunching in outdoor resturaunts, smoking cigarettes, having parilla at 3 in the afternoon. palermo was complete overrun by Spanish and Italian tourists, but it was better than shopping alongside gringos at the market in san telmo. Sadly, the stock hadn’t changed since the last time I did a Palermo run, so I mostly people watched in plaza Serrano. At 6:30 I had plans to meet Sam, who never showed. While waiting for him, a street band started to rock out in the streets, and I struck up conversation with the girl next to me. She was originally from italy but has lived in Barcelona for 3 years and works for study abroad programs that US universities use. Nate, if youre reading this, do you use STI? She was flying from Barcelona to Santiago for a wedding, but the earthquake struck mid flight ad they were forced to land in Buenos Aires. What a tense flight that must have been? Youre in the middle of atlantic, drunk on bloody marys, when the flight attendent tells you that theres been a earthquake in your country, the airport is destroyed, and you have no chance of getting in touch with your relatives until you land! She did tell me, however, that the news has been exaggerating the damage a bit, at least in Santiago. There’s destruction, but the majority of the devastation is in Concepción, a city that cate and I spent the night in while we were switching WWOOFING farms. Its weird to know that a place that you’ve so recently visited doesn’t look, and will never again look like it did when you saw it. This girl and I ended up going for beers at my favorite bar in Palermo (I still don’t know the name of it).
In other news, last week I spent the majority of my time with some Israeli girls that I met in bariloche. Israelis are by far one of the most quirky groups of people ive encountered. 1. They’re travelling for so long that they rarely spending money on going out to dinner. Thus, they all carry these cosmetic cases of spices that they use when they cook at hostels- film canisters of oregano, and Kinder eggs of salt..its hilarious. 2. They stay in Israeli hostels…as in, the signs are in Spanish and Hebrew. There are literally so many of them, that theres an entire population of Israeli hostels..and they stay Israeli because theyre not written about in the lonely planet in English, but instead on this website that Israelis use when the travel—like tripadvisor or wikitravel in Hebrew. 3. They don’t speak Spanish. Not a word, and they have no interest in learning. If I sound judgmental, its on purpose. 4. (this is one from one story I heard, but I cant imagine that others are any different) one of the days that the girls were staying with me, I walked them to their friends hostel because it was only a couple blocks away from my school. I said, “you have to visit this museum. Its free on wednesdays. Take this colectivo. Etc….” Later that day we meet up at the house, and I say, “did you make it to the museum?”. “well lana, listen to what happened. So after waiting a very long time for the bus, it finally comes and we get on. We say, ‘we want to go to MALBA’….and then HE COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TELL US WHEN TO GET OFF.” Im not sure if im able to communicate the irony of this story. But to me, it typifies this sense of entitlement that Israelis have. He’s a bus driver, who don’t only has to maneuver the streets of Buenos aires, but is also responsible for making sure that people pay the bus fare. So for them to expect him to remember where they need to get off, and to remind them about it was hysterical to me. Don’t worry, I’ve told all of this to their face- so don’t think im bad mouthing them. They know that this is just how Israelis are.
Those are my thoughts for now.
the trio in rio gallegos, argentina.
i opted out of using my hikers backpack and shoved 4 days worth of gear into my daypack. i was a hiking homeless person.
7am. sunrise climb to los torres. UNBEATABLE WEATHER..not a cloud in the sky
the gang minutes before our first and hardest ascent.
the trio
preview of the spacious buses
picture on my 36 hour bus ride from el bolson to el calafate....miles, hours of this kind of scenery
solo traveler shot in el bolson
dinner at the israeli hostel. shuk-shu-kah...eggs and tomato sauce
my group of blond foreigners.
market day in el bolson...wish it would have been a better day
This weekend I had plans to go Gualeguaychú and celebrate carnival in the only place in argentina that celebrates. Gualeguaychú is right on the border with Uruguay, and is about 4-5 hours north of Buenos aires. However, when I woke up on Saturday morning, I heard about the quake in chile and was too preoccupied with safety/too distraught about cate to leave BA. Also, one of my roommates is from Santiago, which is where her son and family live so I was anxious to talk to her and make sure everything was okay…and yes, everything is okay on all ends.
Later that day, I took the 12 (I am slowly mastering the colectivos) to Palermo for some typical soho shopping. It was shocking how much Palermo reminded me of soho on a beautiful spring day. The most beautiful people, lunching in outdoor resturaunts, smoking cigarettes, having parilla at 3 in the afternoon. palermo was complete overrun by Spanish and Italian tourists, but it was better than shopping alongside gringos at the market in san telmo. Sadly, the stock hadn’t changed since the last time I did a Palermo run, so I mostly people watched in plaza Serrano. At 6:30 I had plans to meet Sam, who never showed. While waiting for him, a street band started to rock out in the streets, and I struck up conversation with the girl next to me. She was originally from italy but has lived in Barcelona for 3 years and works for study abroad programs that US universities use. Nate, if youre reading this, do you use STI? She was flying from Barcelona to Santiago for a wedding, but the earthquake struck mid flight ad they were forced to land in Buenos Aires. What a tense flight that must have been? Youre in the middle of atlantic, drunk on bloody marys, when the flight attendent tells you that theres been a earthquake in your country, the airport is destroyed, and you have no chance of getting in touch with your relatives until you land! She did tell me, however, that the news has been exaggerating the damage a bit, at least in Santiago. There’s destruction, but the majority of the devastation is in Concepción, a city that cate and I spent the night in while we were switching WWOOFING farms. Its weird to know that a place that you’ve so recently visited doesn’t look, and will never again look like it did when you saw it. This girl and I ended up going for beers at my favorite bar in Palermo (I still don’t know the name of it).
In other news, last week I spent the majority of my time with some Israeli girls that I met in bariloche. Israelis are by far one of the most quirky groups of people ive encountered. 1. They’re travelling for so long that they rarely spending money on going out to dinner. Thus, they all carry these cosmetic cases of spices that they use when they cook at hostels- film canisters of oregano, and Kinder eggs of salt..its hilarious. 2. They stay in Israeli hostels…as in, the signs are in Spanish and Hebrew. There are literally so many of them, that theres an entire population of Israeli hostels..and they stay Israeli because theyre not written about in the lonely planet in English, but instead on this website that Israelis use when the travel—like tripadvisor or wikitravel in Hebrew. 3. They don’t speak Spanish. Not a word, and they have no interest in learning. If I sound judgmental, its on purpose. 4. (this is one from one story I heard, but I cant imagine that others are any different) one of the days that the girls were staying with me, I walked them to their friends hostel because it was only a couple blocks away from my school. I said, “you have to visit this museum. Its free on wednesdays. Take this colectivo. Etc….” Later that day we meet up at the house, and I say, “did you make it to the museum?”. “well lana, listen to what happened. So after waiting a very long time for the bus, it finally comes and we get on. We say, ‘we want to go to MALBA’….and then HE COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TELL US WHEN TO GET OFF.” Im not sure if im able to communicate the irony of this story. But to me, it typifies this sense of entitlement that Israelis have. He’s a bus driver, who don’t only has to maneuver the streets of Buenos aires, but is also responsible for making sure that people pay the bus fare. So for them to expect him to remember where they need to get off, and to remind them about it was hysterical to me. Don’t worry, I’ve told all of this to their face- so don’t think im bad mouthing them. They know that this is just how Israelis are.
Those are my thoughts for now.
the trio in rio gallegos, argentina.
i opted out of using my hikers backpack and shoved 4 days worth of gear into my daypack. i was a hiking homeless person.
7am. sunrise climb to los torres. UNBEATABLE WEATHER..not a cloud in the sky
the gang minutes before our first and hardest ascent.
the trio
preview of the spacious buses
picture on my 36 hour bus ride from el bolson to el calafate....miles, hours of this kind of scenery
solo traveler shot in el bolson
dinner at the israeli hostel. shuk-shu-kah...eggs and tomato sauce
my group of blond foreigners.
market day in el bolson...wish it would have been a better day
viajes en el sur
Being back in Buenos aires is quite comforting after two weeks of nonstop travel. Dad, you asked me how many miles I logged…so in kilometers (which is what they work with in EVERY OTHER COUNTRY IN THE WORLD) the trip was:
Buenos aires to bariloche (21 hour bus ride): 1,600
Bariloche to el bolson (2 hour bus ride: 121
El bolson to el calafate (36 hour bus ride…every couple of hours we would be offroading for 1-2 hours) 1720
El calafate to Puerto natales, chile (5 hour bus ride): 268
Puerto natales to torres del pine (2 hour bus ride): 92
4 days trekking in Puerto natales:49
Puerto natales to rio Gallegos (7 hour bus ride): 329
Rio gallos to Buenos aires (2 hour plane ride): 2,500
In total… feb 5th to feb 20th→ 6679 kilometers or 4150 miles. NUTS
On the 5th I took a overnight bus from Buenos aires to bariloche. When I got there it was 4 pm, raining, and I had no so much as a guidebook, nor a reservation. I had the address of hostel but because its high season, I didn’t expect to be able to snag a bed. So, with all the optimism one can muster in the rain, I decided to walk from the bus stop, ignorant as to its location in relation to the town… by the time I made it to the first kiosk, I had realized what a bad idea this had been and decided to check my email and possibly convince the woman who worked there to make a very phone calls for me, or atleast tell me where I was in relation to the hostels. By making a decent impression and having a working Spanish vocabulary, my wish was granted and there happened to be one bed left at an irish hostel named PUDU. When I got there it was about 8, happy hour at the hostel bar that only serves local brews. I got chatting with a blond English fellow, who, like me, was in the midst of planning his activites for the next day. All I had remembered from what I read in some guidebook a had glanced at is that there is this bike route that’s great for days trips. Our schmoozing attracted other travelers and by the end of the night, we had a group of seven. The next morning, after an awesome breakfast of irish biscuits and dulce de leche, me and the most blond people (4) I have ever been with at one time head out for the bike rental place.
Pic
After having lived in Miami for 3 years, Ive pretty much lost all winter gear ive ever accumulated and was pretty ill equipped for this venture. Moreover, bariloche had just had a stint of 3 beatiuful weeks, but the weather report said the next WEEK in bariloche would be on and off rainstorms, and that’s exactly how it was while we were biking, all day. It was Sunday, and we heard there was an artisanal market in colonia suiza, so we made that our biking destination. It was a cute market, with lots of bariloche-esc/german/swiss inspired food (Belgian waffles and LOTS OF BEER) + your classic empanadas + this really authentic dish called curanto, which is where they take all these kinds of meats and vegetables and they cook them below heated earth.
Pic
When we finally got back to the bike rental place, I was more than dehydrated. Its hard to recap this story because I was so on the verge of fainting..regardless of how it all went down, it result in the friendship of two Israeli girls. That night, I went back to my hostel and right to bed, fearful that I was coming down with something that would ruin my travels. I didn’t wake up feeling much better but I had a little chat with my immune system, as well as a much needed phone call with my mom, and all seemed a bit bright (even without the light of day). After buying some of bairloches famous chocolate, I happened to run into the Israeli girls who convinced me to stay another night. However, my hostel didn’t have room for me to stay another day so I moved into theirs. I have never been surrounded by so many Israelis…and it was a super interesting experience.
The hostel was an Israeli hostel. As in, the signs were in Spanish and Hebrew! I had heard that a lot of Israelis come here to travel after the army….but the mass was completely overwhelming. At first, I thought I would be ashamed of my lack of religious knowledge/ involvment in the jewish community..but this sentiment took on a very different meaning after spending somtime with them. When I mentioned to sam how i was surprised at how secular all of them seemed, he said that their existence is defined by judiasm, and that their religiosity is almost proven and maintained simply by being Israeli, and living the jewish experience in Israel. This idea made sense to me, but only after meeting them.
That night, the girls wanted to cook a traditional Israeli dish called shuk-shu-kah (don’t kill me on the spelling) which is basically making poached eggs but instead of cooking them in water, you use a semi-boiling tomato sauce that you make before..and you eat it with bread. Bread, eggs, and tomatoes—im on board!
The next day, I headed to el bolson, and was greeted with amazing people, and a really great market… it took me about 3 hours and several walks through the market to commit to anything but in the end, I came out with some nice things. A hand carved maté gord that’s simply beautiful and a pair of awesome earrings with quartz and amethyst. It was the first nice day in a while so even though it was a typical Tuesday..everyone was out with their familes, enjoying the entertainment of a local band, and a johny depp look-a-like clown.
The next day I boarded my very long bus to el calafate. Not much to say except that it was a very long ride………especially with my ipod that died an hour into the trip, and without a book. South America has awakened my inner poet so ive been dabbling in a little late night prose.
I had told sam and kyle that I was going to meet them at the bus station when my bus got in, but obviously we arrived late and so they were no where to be found when we finally deboared. The only thing I could think of doing was going to the closest internet café….and luck have it, they were sitting in the first one I saw. We checked into our hostel, and then grabbed a hearty vegetarian sandwhich and some local cerveza.
After debating our options for the glacier, we decided on the most expensive package…4 hours trekking. I think we would all agree that it was the right decision. We woke up early, had breakfast at the hostel, and boarded the bus when it showed up (only 30 minutes late..pretty good for latin American standards)
They drove us to the entrance to the park where we paid the park entry and then were able to walk around on this extensive network of bridges that were constructed to give you multiple angles of the glacier
Pic
Then we took a boat over to another to another glacier, the one we would have a chance to walk around. When we got there, we trekked for 20 minutes up to a base camp where we were fitted from cramps (metal cages for your shoes that fasten to the ice while you’re walking), and then to another basecamp 10 minutes away to put on harnesses. We were actually strapped into anything while we were walking.. they were just precautionary in case anyone fell in (to what? I still don’t know) and they needed to be lifted back up. Then another 5 minutes down, at which point we strappd on our cramp ons, divided into smaller groups and headed out trekking. Basically, if I didn’t have a desire to be an astronaut before (which I didn’t…) I do now; walking on this glacier was like being on a foreign planet. The farther we walked, the more alien the terrain became. And whats more, it was super bizarre seeing moutains covered in greenery RIGHT NEXT TO this huge block of crystal blue ice. we also had the most incredible weather…. As can be seen from the clear blue sky in the pictures. Ill have it be known that I was wearing a total of $0 in snow gear, while the people all around me were decked out in the latest north face bullshit…oh consumerism. We lunched on the glacier with sandwhiches that we had made…and that was the only time I was legitimately cold…
Pic
Afterwards, we endulged our post glacier high with a bottle of wine each…needless to say, we never left the hostel.
The next morning, we had a 4oclock bus to Puerto natales. We ended up arriving at 9pm, grabbed some dinner, and made it to our hostel by 11pm…the next morning, we took a 2pm bus to the foot of the trail in torres del pine, paid the entrance fee, and headed out trekking. We only intended to trek to the base camp, which we heard was 2-3 hours away, so we would get in by 6, set up camp, and have dinner at the refugio. I guess we were surprised by how immediately the incline started, but we kept a good pace and arrived in 1:45…basically, we were running according the map. It was a weird experience passing other hikers every 2 minutes; all treks ive done in the past have been pretty much devoid of passing other travelers, so in a way, it made the experience a bit more touristy…?
When we got to the base camp, most people had already pitched tents to we had to move quickly and claim a spot. At around 8, we had a huge hikers dinner, a box of wine (CLOS…always), and then went to bed- early morning wakeup to prepare for.
I woke up and was unable to feel my feet…besides that, my many layers and unfortunate choice of a sleeping bag had provided enough warm to last me through the night. I was actually suprisied at how few people were unzipping their tents at 5am…after all, seeing the torres at sunset is supposed to be the highlight of the trail.
We were a little behind schedule, so I took lead and set pace. We were basically sprinting through the trail, twilight style… (anyone?).
However, it simply wasn’t good enough. The light was starting to illuminate the trees, headlamps were no longer needed, and my spirit was crushed- we hadn’t even made it to the incline yet. At map told us that the sun was to ride at 6:40, and we had made it to the foot of the ascent at 6:20. Kyle took the backpack, and led the trail the rest of the way. The first part of the incline was incredibly steep, and laid with a sand that gave no traction at all…my motivation was gone. Finally, the 3 torres showed themselves in the light of day, and kyle suggested we head to a boulder to watch the rest of sunrise. But we were wrong……..although the suns light was visible, the sun itself was around 20 minutes away from rearing its head from the horizon…HURRRRAY.
Pic
Pic of badass
We had some coffee, some dried fruit, and then turned back at around 9am. Made it back to refugio italiano at 10am, took down our tents, packed up, had some avena and maté, and were back on the road at 11. We made it to the base of the trail head by 12, took a break and then trekked for another 6 hours. When we finally got to the refugio (which was supposed to be a stopping point before another 2 hours to the campsite) we said fuck it, and pitched tent there. We got in at about 6, napped, and then woke up for dinner at around 8. There also happened to be a spare mattress. Knowing the troubles that cate had had with pulgas (fleas), and the fact that finding and using a mattress in the middle of the woods, that 100’s of disgustingly dirty hikers have slept on, should have grossed me out. But who was I kidding- I was hiking in the same clothes for 4 days, with only 2 pair of underwear and a sleeping bag in a trash bag… thus I threw caution to the wind an indulged the comfort that 5 inches of foam gave me. My nap turned out to be better than my actually sleep that night, because as it turns out, I pitched tent on a hill and was fearful of flipping my tent during the tent; dinner was accompanied by another bottle of wine- so im not sure how/why my anxiety came into play? Oh life.
The next morning we awoke at the leisurely hour of 10 and only ended up leaving the campsite at quarter to 12. This was also distinct for me. On all of my previous treks, we were up at 6, on the trail like 7:30 and into the campsite by 4 to make sure that we had enough light to set up camp. Because the sunsets at 9:30 and its only entirely dark at 10:30, the whole schedule threw me. The trek to the campsite was 2:30 minutes, and we had intended to set up camp, drop off our bags, and then hike to get an alternative view of the torres at sunset, along a path called valle de frances. That never happened. The warmth of the sun by the river, the incredible, clear view of the snowy mountain backdrop was too paralyzing to leave. So we stayed at its foot, ate dried fruit, played cards..and indulged our tired bodies. Dinner of ramen noodles, chocolate, Clos, and an inappropriate dosage of Benadryl- yum.
The next morning, we hit the trail running; no breakfast, just pure adrenalin. It was a 3 hour hike to the base of the mountain where we would catch the 12pm ferry back to our starting point. We made good time and got to the refugio at 10:30, cooked the rest of our avena and 4 packages of oriental flavor ramen (breakfast of champions), and then packed up our gear. I managed to nap after all activities that followed- after breakfast, on the ferry, and on the bus back to Puerto Natales. Later that night we went out for chorriana and beer. The next morning was our 7 hour bus ride to Rio Gallegos, including a stop at immigration which, in addition to being A JOKE, took ¼ the time- oh, I love this country.
We didn’t have reservations for a hostel in rio Gallegos so we chose at random and had someone call from the bus terminal- smoking room at Hotel Paris for 3 please! (no mom, I didn’t turn into a smoker). Exploration, beers, dinner, sleep..TOMORROW PENGUINS.
It didn’t turn out to be that easy. The excursion that kyle had heard of happened to be discontinued….with every tourist agency in rio Gallegos. Finally, we tried one last place and they were able to arrange a separate remisse for us and a family of 4. The ride ended up being a 3 hour offroading adventure.
The penguins were kind of underwhelming, although their shear number was impressive. At this point in the year, they were going through their routine moulting period, which is just a period when any animal regularly sheds its outer layer. For most animals, this takes place all the time (like dogs and cats shedding fur) but with penguins, it happens all at once, for 3-4 weeks during feb or march, and kind of makes them look sickly. So that’s what I saw, a lot of sick looking penguins, and lots of feathers flying about. We walked a ½ mile circle, encountered about 5-6 different clusterings and then made our way to the beach where we got to see them swimming. We weren’t allowed on the beach, as to prevent the disruption of their natural habitat, but they were still amusing to watch from afar.
Afterwards, we were taken to a lighthouse and got coffee and postre, that kyle and I devoured with much regret…oh dulce de leche WHY.
Later that night, we went for dinner in one of rio gallegos’s 6 restaurants, and then stayed awake until our cab ride to the airport at 2am.
And that concludes my tale of life on the road. Funny enough, I remember it as basically one stream of consciousness because I was wearing the same outfit for days on end. That is no joke. THE SAME OUTFIT.
Buenos aires to bariloche (21 hour bus ride): 1,600
Bariloche to el bolson (2 hour bus ride: 121
El bolson to el calafate (36 hour bus ride…every couple of hours we would be offroading for 1-2 hours) 1720
El calafate to Puerto natales, chile (5 hour bus ride): 268
Puerto natales to torres del pine (2 hour bus ride): 92
4 days trekking in Puerto natales:49
Puerto natales to rio Gallegos (7 hour bus ride): 329
Rio gallos to Buenos aires (2 hour plane ride): 2,500
In total… feb 5th to feb 20th→ 6679 kilometers or 4150 miles. NUTS
On the 5th I took a overnight bus from Buenos aires to bariloche. When I got there it was 4 pm, raining, and I had no so much as a guidebook, nor a reservation. I had the address of hostel but because its high season, I didn’t expect to be able to snag a bed. So, with all the optimism one can muster in the rain, I decided to walk from the bus stop, ignorant as to its location in relation to the town… by the time I made it to the first kiosk, I had realized what a bad idea this had been and decided to check my email and possibly convince the woman who worked there to make a very phone calls for me, or atleast tell me where I was in relation to the hostels. By making a decent impression and having a working Spanish vocabulary, my wish was granted and there happened to be one bed left at an irish hostel named PUDU. When I got there it was about 8, happy hour at the hostel bar that only serves local brews. I got chatting with a blond English fellow, who, like me, was in the midst of planning his activites for the next day. All I had remembered from what I read in some guidebook a had glanced at is that there is this bike route that’s great for days trips. Our schmoozing attracted other travelers and by the end of the night, we had a group of seven. The next morning, after an awesome breakfast of irish biscuits and dulce de leche, me and the most blond people (4) I have ever been with at one time head out for the bike rental place.
Pic
After having lived in Miami for 3 years, Ive pretty much lost all winter gear ive ever accumulated and was pretty ill equipped for this venture. Moreover, bariloche had just had a stint of 3 beatiuful weeks, but the weather report said the next WEEK in bariloche would be on and off rainstorms, and that’s exactly how it was while we were biking, all day. It was Sunday, and we heard there was an artisanal market in colonia suiza, so we made that our biking destination. It was a cute market, with lots of bariloche-esc/german/swiss inspired food (Belgian waffles and LOTS OF BEER) + your classic empanadas + this really authentic dish called curanto, which is where they take all these kinds of meats and vegetables and they cook them below heated earth.
Pic
When we finally got back to the bike rental place, I was more than dehydrated. Its hard to recap this story because I was so on the verge of fainting..regardless of how it all went down, it result in the friendship of two Israeli girls. That night, I went back to my hostel and right to bed, fearful that I was coming down with something that would ruin my travels. I didn’t wake up feeling much better but I had a little chat with my immune system, as well as a much needed phone call with my mom, and all seemed a bit bright (even without the light of day). After buying some of bairloches famous chocolate, I happened to run into the Israeli girls who convinced me to stay another night. However, my hostel didn’t have room for me to stay another day so I moved into theirs. I have never been surrounded by so many Israelis…and it was a super interesting experience.
The hostel was an Israeli hostel. As in, the signs were in Spanish and Hebrew! I had heard that a lot of Israelis come here to travel after the army….but the mass was completely overwhelming. At first, I thought I would be ashamed of my lack of religious knowledge/ involvment in the jewish community..but this sentiment took on a very different meaning after spending somtime with them. When I mentioned to sam how i was surprised at how secular all of them seemed, he said that their existence is defined by judiasm, and that their religiosity is almost proven and maintained simply by being Israeli, and living the jewish experience in Israel. This idea made sense to me, but only after meeting them.
That night, the girls wanted to cook a traditional Israeli dish called shuk-shu-kah (don’t kill me on the spelling) which is basically making poached eggs but instead of cooking them in water, you use a semi-boiling tomato sauce that you make before..and you eat it with bread. Bread, eggs, and tomatoes—im on board!
The next day, I headed to el bolson, and was greeted with amazing people, and a really great market… it took me about 3 hours and several walks through the market to commit to anything but in the end, I came out with some nice things. A hand carved maté gord that’s simply beautiful and a pair of awesome earrings with quartz and amethyst. It was the first nice day in a while so even though it was a typical Tuesday..everyone was out with their familes, enjoying the entertainment of a local band, and a johny depp look-a-like clown.
The next day I boarded my very long bus to el calafate. Not much to say except that it was a very long ride………especially with my ipod that died an hour into the trip, and without a book. South America has awakened my inner poet so ive been dabbling in a little late night prose.
I had told sam and kyle that I was going to meet them at the bus station when my bus got in, but obviously we arrived late and so they were no where to be found when we finally deboared. The only thing I could think of doing was going to the closest internet café….and luck have it, they were sitting in the first one I saw. We checked into our hostel, and then grabbed a hearty vegetarian sandwhich and some local cerveza.
After debating our options for the glacier, we decided on the most expensive package…4 hours trekking. I think we would all agree that it was the right decision. We woke up early, had breakfast at the hostel, and boarded the bus when it showed up (only 30 minutes late..pretty good for latin American standards)
They drove us to the entrance to the park where we paid the park entry and then were able to walk around on this extensive network of bridges that were constructed to give you multiple angles of the glacier
Pic
Then we took a boat over to another to another glacier, the one we would have a chance to walk around. When we got there, we trekked for 20 minutes up to a base camp where we were fitted from cramps (metal cages for your shoes that fasten to the ice while you’re walking), and then to another basecamp 10 minutes away to put on harnesses. We were actually strapped into anything while we were walking.. they were just precautionary in case anyone fell in (to what? I still don’t know) and they needed to be lifted back up. Then another 5 minutes down, at which point we strappd on our cramp ons, divided into smaller groups and headed out trekking. Basically, if I didn’t have a desire to be an astronaut before (which I didn’t…) I do now; walking on this glacier was like being on a foreign planet. The farther we walked, the more alien the terrain became. And whats more, it was super bizarre seeing moutains covered in greenery RIGHT NEXT TO this huge block of crystal blue ice. we also had the most incredible weather…. As can be seen from the clear blue sky in the pictures. Ill have it be known that I was wearing a total of $0 in snow gear, while the people all around me were decked out in the latest north face bullshit…oh consumerism. We lunched on the glacier with sandwhiches that we had made…and that was the only time I was legitimately cold…
Pic
Afterwards, we endulged our post glacier high with a bottle of wine each…needless to say, we never left the hostel.
The next morning, we had a 4oclock bus to Puerto natales. We ended up arriving at 9pm, grabbed some dinner, and made it to our hostel by 11pm…the next morning, we took a 2pm bus to the foot of the trail in torres del pine, paid the entrance fee, and headed out trekking. We only intended to trek to the base camp, which we heard was 2-3 hours away, so we would get in by 6, set up camp, and have dinner at the refugio. I guess we were surprised by how immediately the incline started, but we kept a good pace and arrived in 1:45…basically, we were running according the map. It was a weird experience passing other hikers every 2 minutes; all treks ive done in the past have been pretty much devoid of passing other travelers, so in a way, it made the experience a bit more touristy…?
When we got to the base camp, most people had already pitched tents to we had to move quickly and claim a spot. At around 8, we had a huge hikers dinner, a box of wine (CLOS…always), and then went to bed- early morning wakeup to prepare for.
I woke up and was unable to feel my feet…besides that, my many layers and unfortunate choice of a sleeping bag had provided enough warm to last me through the night. I was actually suprisied at how few people were unzipping their tents at 5am…after all, seeing the torres at sunset is supposed to be the highlight of the trail.
We were a little behind schedule, so I took lead and set pace. We were basically sprinting through the trail, twilight style… (anyone?).
However, it simply wasn’t good enough. The light was starting to illuminate the trees, headlamps were no longer needed, and my spirit was crushed- we hadn’t even made it to the incline yet. At map told us that the sun was to ride at 6:40, and we had made it to the foot of the ascent at 6:20. Kyle took the backpack, and led the trail the rest of the way. The first part of the incline was incredibly steep, and laid with a sand that gave no traction at all…my motivation was gone. Finally, the 3 torres showed themselves in the light of day, and kyle suggested we head to a boulder to watch the rest of sunrise. But we were wrong……..although the suns light was visible, the sun itself was around 20 minutes away from rearing its head from the horizon…HURRRRAY.
Pic
Pic of badass
We had some coffee, some dried fruit, and then turned back at around 9am. Made it back to refugio italiano at 10am, took down our tents, packed up, had some avena and maté, and were back on the road at 11. We made it to the base of the trail head by 12, took a break and then trekked for another 6 hours. When we finally got to the refugio (which was supposed to be a stopping point before another 2 hours to the campsite) we said fuck it, and pitched tent there. We got in at about 6, napped, and then woke up for dinner at around 8. There also happened to be a spare mattress. Knowing the troubles that cate had had with pulgas (fleas), and the fact that finding and using a mattress in the middle of the woods, that 100’s of disgustingly dirty hikers have slept on, should have grossed me out. But who was I kidding- I was hiking in the same clothes for 4 days, with only 2 pair of underwear and a sleeping bag in a trash bag… thus I threw caution to the wind an indulged the comfort that 5 inches of foam gave me. My nap turned out to be better than my actually sleep that night, because as it turns out, I pitched tent on a hill and was fearful of flipping my tent during the tent; dinner was accompanied by another bottle of wine- so im not sure how/why my anxiety came into play? Oh life.
The next morning we awoke at the leisurely hour of 10 and only ended up leaving the campsite at quarter to 12. This was also distinct for me. On all of my previous treks, we were up at 6, on the trail like 7:30 and into the campsite by 4 to make sure that we had enough light to set up camp. Because the sunsets at 9:30 and its only entirely dark at 10:30, the whole schedule threw me. The trek to the campsite was 2:30 minutes, and we had intended to set up camp, drop off our bags, and then hike to get an alternative view of the torres at sunset, along a path called valle de frances. That never happened. The warmth of the sun by the river, the incredible, clear view of the snowy mountain backdrop was too paralyzing to leave. So we stayed at its foot, ate dried fruit, played cards..and indulged our tired bodies. Dinner of ramen noodles, chocolate, Clos, and an inappropriate dosage of Benadryl- yum.
The next morning, we hit the trail running; no breakfast, just pure adrenalin. It was a 3 hour hike to the base of the mountain where we would catch the 12pm ferry back to our starting point. We made good time and got to the refugio at 10:30, cooked the rest of our avena and 4 packages of oriental flavor ramen (breakfast of champions), and then packed up our gear. I managed to nap after all activities that followed- after breakfast, on the ferry, and on the bus back to Puerto Natales. Later that night we went out for chorriana and beer. The next morning was our 7 hour bus ride to Rio Gallegos, including a stop at immigration which, in addition to being A JOKE, took ¼ the time- oh, I love this country.
We didn’t have reservations for a hostel in rio Gallegos so we chose at random and had someone call from the bus terminal- smoking room at Hotel Paris for 3 please! (no mom, I didn’t turn into a smoker). Exploration, beers, dinner, sleep..TOMORROW PENGUINS.
It didn’t turn out to be that easy. The excursion that kyle had heard of happened to be discontinued….with every tourist agency in rio Gallegos. Finally, we tried one last place and they were able to arrange a separate remisse for us and a family of 4. The ride ended up being a 3 hour offroading adventure.
The penguins were kind of underwhelming, although their shear number was impressive. At this point in the year, they were going through their routine moulting period, which is just a period when any animal regularly sheds its outer layer. For most animals, this takes place all the time (like dogs and cats shedding fur) but with penguins, it happens all at once, for 3-4 weeks during feb or march, and kind of makes them look sickly. So that’s what I saw, a lot of sick looking penguins, and lots of feathers flying about. We walked a ½ mile circle, encountered about 5-6 different clusterings and then made our way to the beach where we got to see them swimming. We weren’t allowed on the beach, as to prevent the disruption of their natural habitat, but they were still amusing to watch from afar.
Afterwards, we were taken to a lighthouse and got coffee and postre, that kyle and I devoured with much regret…oh dulce de leche WHY.
Later that night, we went for dinner in one of rio gallegos’s 6 restaurants, and then stayed awake until our cab ride to the airport at 2am.
And that concludes my tale of life on the road. Funny enough, I remember it as basically one stream of consciousness because I was wearing the same outfit for days on end. That is no joke. THE SAME OUTFIT.
domingo, 31 de enero de 2010
first week in buenos aires: LET ME BREAK IT DOWN
Tomorrow will mark the date of my first week in Buenos aires, and if I do say so myself, ive been quite the tourist. But in the best and most fruitful sense of the word. Let me break it down:
Monday: my first day in Buenos aires.. walked the entire avenida Corrientes and the main block in san telmo. That walk is basically the equivalent of my apartment on 106th to 42nd st, and then over to the east river. in perhaps a quantity and quality of heat comparable to new york in august. Oh, also in jeans and hiking boots because my legs were too disgustingly bitten up to bare wearing a dress.
Tuesday: cate arrives at around 1. We eat an acelga tort and some cherry tomatoes and then head out to Palermo. We walk around Palermo and discover that unlike new york boutique shopping- which is both out of our price range and most often lacks in originality after 3 stores- the shopping in Palermo is amazing. Cate buys an awesome bathing suit top, and we discover the power of a fantastic necklace. We stop for beers at the main plaza which is boxed in with bars. This is at around 7…we’re hoping that the beers subdue our hunger until the ungodly hour that these argentinians expose themselves to the restaurant scene, but alas, we’re just not that strong. We ask for a good parillada place, but the directions to our unaccustomed ears goes to waste, and thus we’re sent searching for esquinas y derechas (corners and right turns) on unknown blocks. Finally, we find it but its only a parilla place- which means that you can get all the good meat/intenstines/liver etc that you want, but it doesn’t come on the tabla por dos personas..and thus ordering takes a bit of finesse. The voyage was well worth the wait. Ive never tasted a piece of meat more incredible. Ojo de bife. Wrapped in its own fat.. in resturaunts in the states, sometimes people wrap steak in bacon to give it more fatiness and flavor-very unnecessary in this carnivorous paradise.
Wednesday: san telmo shopping. Antique district..i bought a fantastic shirt with a crab on it. Later that day, we went to the Alamo with these guys from our hostel. It turned out to be really great. Girls paid 20 peso (≅ $5) and guys $30..but your entrada got you 3 drink tickets. I WISH I HAD MY CAMERA. With 3 tickets, you got a bucket of beer. Not bottled beers in a bucket, but the equivalent of a bucket used for washing dogs, painting houses etc…of beer. One ticket got me a vodka orange juice (just to get things rollin…). One of the guys that we went with was an Aaron Carter lookalike and thus he drew a lot attention. But good attention. Not tourist attention, or attention like the gringos get in chile. We were invited to sit down with some argentinian girls who we quickly became friends with. They invited us to a birthday party on Friday and we enthusiastically accepted. NEW FRIENDS. It concluded with a better night of hot, sticky sleep..and by better, I mean intoxicated and thus less noticeable.
Thursday: we had heard that the tourist buses were not only a great way to see the city but a good way to get around if the bus system seemed overwhelming. Plus with the heat of the day, we thought the wind on the double decker bus sounded pretty damn appealing. We hopped on at the main plaza at 1pm. Rode around and sweated our dresses see-through until we got to La Boca, a colorful district outside of the city. its location right at the port of the city made it a common destination for turn-of-the-century immigrants- think tenament NY..lots of people sharing apartment buildings, disease, poor living conditions, but the sense of upward mobility. Parts of the neighborhood are really pretty and colorful because the Italians who settled down there used the extra paint from the shipping boats to paint their buildings. In the heat of the day, it was time to retreat inside and see some museums. We saw the museo de papel—some cool prints. And then this other museum that was home to a very famous la boca artist who painted these vibrant industrial scenes. We reboarded the bus and took it to an area near Palermo where we were meeting up with this guy that cate had shared a cab with from the airport. We got beers near the plaza and then retreated inwards to a less touristy area where the drinks were perhaps cheaper. AND INDEED THEY WERE. When we were walking to meet him, I had spotted this dodgy bar that was obviously EMPTY at 7, but def had the potential of filling up. So we get there and we make our way to the roof where there are a couple of people and a nice breeze. But wait. Its Thursday and they have FREE PIZZA. Individual pizzas. As many as you want. All night. No questions asked. BEST THING EVER. We’re still not sure of the name. Either freedom bar or Hollywood in Cambodia. Either way, I now have two nights of the week checked off. Wednesdays at el Alamo and Thursdays here… im making excellent progress in this new city of mine.
Friday: move hostels in the morning. Perhaps in a different month, rancho urbano would have been a better option. But the 6 person rooms/scorching hot showers/ cat poop on the floor sitch that this hostel had going on was not working. So we moved to tango backpackers in Palermo. Its part of Hosteling International so its obligated to meet at least some health standards. A lot more English is spoken..but its not such a big deal. Later that day, wee stumbled upon semi-famous empanada place and were blown away—it was accompanied by a traditional argentinan stew (locoro) and a palava, another argentine favorite.
We still had the tourist bus option because we bought a two day pass. Hopped on at a stop near Palermo and took it to Recoleta. We hadn’t intended to go to the museo de bellas artes, but its grandeur intrigued us from afar. From up close, we were sold by its price of $0. I guess I should have assumed a city like Buenos aires would have just as much of an impressive art collection as new york, but still, I was taken aback. Tons of Degas…goya, Borrador, Torres García.. amazing. I didn’t invest in the audio tour but I have a feeling ill be back multiple times; by the time I got to the modern stuff, I had museum fatigue. Subsequently, this led to getting ripped off by an orange juice vendor, which for some season produced a roaring and uncontrollable rage. Cate had never seen this side of me. Oh the things to learn… we then went to the architecture museum which was underwhelming, but free so whatever. We made our way back to the hostel after walking through Argentinas MOST EXPENSIVE MALL.. Our days allotment of money had already been spent (mine on ORANGE JUICE!!!) and so we went to one of the many HOMEMADE pasta stores and bought ourselves some gnocchi. After cooking in the thousand degree kitchen, we napped, showered and scrapped ourselves of the sweat/dirt residue, and then prepared to venture out and meet the argentinian girls at the bar. This was at about 2am, so we were impressed that we were doing something so, well, age appropriate. The club was underwhelming, the girls weren’t there, and the drinks were expensive so we left with the intention of coming back. We found a cheaper bar a couple blocks up and sat down for sangria. These two guys started talking to us and so we carried on conversation until the point where we had convinced them to be our tour guides the next day and show us Puerto madero-an area we hadn’t seen yet. It was 4am by the time the jarra of sangria was empty, and clearly time for bed.
As an aside, neither cate nor I feel ashamed about the lack of partying we’ve done on this trip. For me, im going to be here all semester..For cate, she knows what south American partying is like?!!?? But its best to consult her blog for a more introspective analysis.
Saturday: we had heard that san telmo market was sat and sun so we planned to go san telmo on satuday, and Palermo market on Sunday because we would have to be back at the hostel at 2pm for the futbol game. Long story short, we heard wrong. So we ended up making a few phone calls and visiting a potential apartment. It was 8 blocks outside of the main square, in what seemed like a sketchier neighborhood. The apartment was coool though. Really cool. Something straight out of that French movie in spain with all the people living in the house. We made our way to Puerto madero and walked the main strip. Cate and I split a cheap burger and at 4pm, met the guys from the previous night at a plaza. We proceeded to walk the ecological reserve, get beers, and then visit another apartment near el congreso. DAY OF A LOT OF WALKING. Cate and I, predictably, had no intention of joining the Saturday night festivities and thus had an early dining experience at 9pm. Incredible wine, incredible cheese dish, mediocre meat. Got to bed at the very reasonable hour of 1am after two lovely, although sound-delayed skype sessions with liz and susan (SHOUT OUT) and a conversation with a belligerent and bumbling Coloradan at the hostel.
Sunday: Palermo market..because of the rain, not many vendors were open. Currently sitting in the hostel waiting to leave for the futbol game.
argentinians friends we made the night before....bench in reserva ecológica.
puente mujer, puerto madero.
best coffee place ever. and yes. that is a free mini ice cream cone that came with my coffee.
houligans boarding the tourist bus
snapshot of la cate y yo as we wait for the tourist bus
typical BUENOS AIRES ARCHITECTURE. que romantica.
cate and i on the tourist bus. i would argue that 70% of the reason we invested in the doudble decker was for the wind on the 2nd floor.
cate holding up the caricuture that some 12 yr old drew for us in plaza dorrego. obvioulsy, we were scammed.
Monday: my first day in Buenos aires.. walked the entire avenida Corrientes and the main block in san telmo. That walk is basically the equivalent of my apartment on 106th to 42nd st, and then over to the east river. in perhaps a quantity and quality of heat comparable to new york in august. Oh, also in jeans and hiking boots because my legs were too disgustingly bitten up to bare wearing a dress.
Tuesday: cate arrives at around 1. We eat an acelga tort and some cherry tomatoes and then head out to Palermo. We walk around Palermo and discover that unlike new york boutique shopping- which is both out of our price range and most often lacks in originality after 3 stores- the shopping in Palermo is amazing. Cate buys an awesome bathing suit top, and we discover the power of a fantastic necklace. We stop for beers at the main plaza which is boxed in with bars. This is at around 7…we’re hoping that the beers subdue our hunger until the ungodly hour that these argentinians expose themselves to the restaurant scene, but alas, we’re just not that strong. We ask for a good parillada place, but the directions to our unaccustomed ears goes to waste, and thus we’re sent searching for esquinas y derechas (corners and right turns) on unknown blocks. Finally, we find it but its only a parilla place- which means that you can get all the good meat/intenstines/liver etc that you want, but it doesn’t come on the tabla por dos personas..and thus ordering takes a bit of finesse. The voyage was well worth the wait. Ive never tasted a piece of meat more incredible. Ojo de bife. Wrapped in its own fat.. in resturaunts in the states, sometimes people wrap steak in bacon to give it more fatiness and flavor-very unnecessary in this carnivorous paradise.
Wednesday: san telmo shopping. Antique district..i bought a fantastic shirt with a crab on it. Later that day, we went to the Alamo with these guys from our hostel. It turned out to be really great. Girls paid 20 peso (≅ $5) and guys $30..but your entrada got you 3 drink tickets. I WISH I HAD MY CAMERA. With 3 tickets, you got a bucket of beer. Not bottled beers in a bucket, but the equivalent of a bucket used for washing dogs, painting houses etc…of beer. One ticket got me a vodka orange juice (just to get things rollin…). One of the guys that we went with was an Aaron Carter lookalike and thus he drew a lot attention. But good attention. Not tourist attention, or attention like the gringos get in chile. We were invited to sit down with some argentinian girls who we quickly became friends with. They invited us to a birthday party on Friday and we enthusiastically accepted. NEW FRIENDS. It concluded with a better night of hot, sticky sleep..and by better, I mean intoxicated and thus less noticeable.
Thursday: we had heard that the tourist buses were not only a great way to see the city but a good way to get around if the bus system seemed overwhelming. Plus with the heat of the day, we thought the wind on the double decker bus sounded pretty damn appealing. We hopped on at the main plaza at 1pm. Rode around and sweated our dresses see-through until we got to La Boca, a colorful district outside of the city. its location right at the port of the city made it a common destination for turn-of-the-century immigrants- think tenament NY..lots of people sharing apartment buildings, disease, poor living conditions, but the sense of upward mobility. Parts of the neighborhood are really pretty and colorful because the Italians who settled down there used the extra paint from the shipping boats to paint their buildings. In the heat of the day, it was time to retreat inside and see some museums. We saw the museo de papel—some cool prints. And then this other museum that was home to a very famous la boca artist who painted these vibrant industrial scenes. We reboarded the bus and took it to an area near Palermo where we were meeting up with this guy that cate had shared a cab with from the airport. We got beers near the plaza and then retreated inwards to a less touristy area where the drinks were perhaps cheaper. AND INDEED THEY WERE. When we were walking to meet him, I had spotted this dodgy bar that was obviously EMPTY at 7, but def had the potential of filling up. So we get there and we make our way to the roof where there are a couple of people and a nice breeze. But wait. Its Thursday and they have FREE PIZZA. Individual pizzas. As many as you want. All night. No questions asked. BEST THING EVER. We’re still not sure of the name. Either freedom bar or Hollywood in Cambodia. Either way, I now have two nights of the week checked off. Wednesdays at el Alamo and Thursdays here… im making excellent progress in this new city of mine.
Friday: move hostels in the morning. Perhaps in a different month, rancho urbano would have been a better option. But the 6 person rooms/scorching hot showers/ cat poop on the floor sitch that this hostel had going on was not working. So we moved to tango backpackers in Palermo. Its part of Hosteling International so its obligated to meet at least some health standards. A lot more English is spoken..but its not such a big deal. Later that day, wee stumbled upon semi-famous empanada place and were blown away—it was accompanied by a traditional argentinan stew (locoro) and a palava, another argentine favorite.
We still had the tourist bus option because we bought a two day pass. Hopped on at a stop near Palermo and took it to Recoleta. We hadn’t intended to go to the museo de bellas artes, but its grandeur intrigued us from afar. From up close, we were sold by its price of $0. I guess I should have assumed a city like Buenos aires would have just as much of an impressive art collection as new york, but still, I was taken aback. Tons of Degas…goya, Borrador, Torres García.. amazing. I didn’t invest in the audio tour but I have a feeling ill be back multiple times; by the time I got to the modern stuff, I had museum fatigue. Subsequently, this led to getting ripped off by an orange juice vendor, which for some season produced a roaring and uncontrollable rage. Cate had never seen this side of me. Oh the things to learn… we then went to the architecture museum which was underwhelming, but free so whatever. We made our way back to the hostel after walking through Argentinas MOST EXPENSIVE MALL.. Our days allotment of money had already been spent (mine on ORANGE JUICE!!!) and so we went to one of the many HOMEMADE pasta stores and bought ourselves some gnocchi. After cooking in the thousand degree kitchen, we napped, showered and scrapped ourselves of the sweat/dirt residue, and then prepared to venture out and meet the argentinian girls at the bar. This was at about 2am, so we were impressed that we were doing something so, well, age appropriate. The club was underwhelming, the girls weren’t there, and the drinks were expensive so we left with the intention of coming back. We found a cheaper bar a couple blocks up and sat down for sangria. These two guys started talking to us and so we carried on conversation until the point where we had convinced them to be our tour guides the next day and show us Puerto madero-an area we hadn’t seen yet. It was 4am by the time the jarra of sangria was empty, and clearly time for bed.
As an aside, neither cate nor I feel ashamed about the lack of partying we’ve done on this trip. For me, im going to be here all semester..For cate, she knows what south American partying is like?!!?? But its best to consult her blog for a more introspective analysis.
Saturday: we had heard that san telmo market was sat and sun so we planned to go san telmo on satuday, and Palermo market on Sunday because we would have to be back at the hostel at 2pm for the futbol game. Long story short, we heard wrong. So we ended up making a few phone calls and visiting a potential apartment. It was 8 blocks outside of the main square, in what seemed like a sketchier neighborhood. The apartment was coool though. Really cool. Something straight out of that French movie in spain with all the people living in the house. We made our way to Puerto madero and walked the main strip. Cate and I split a cheap burger and at 4pm, met the guys from the previous night at a plaza. We proceeded to walk the ecological reserve, get beers, and then visit another apartment near el congreso. DAY OF A LOT OF WALKING. Cate and I, predictably, had no intention of joining the Saturday night festivities and thus had an early dining experience at 9pm. Incredible wine, incredible cheese dish, mediocre meat. Got to bed at the very reasonable hour of 1am after two lovely, although sound-delayed skype sessions with liz and susan (SHOUT OUT) and a conversation with a belligerent and bumbling Coloradan at the hostel.
Sunday: Palermo market..because of the rain, not many vendors were open. Currently sitting in the hostel waiting to leave for the futbol game.
argentinians friends we made the night before....bench in reserva ecológica.
puente mujer, puerto madero.
best coffee place ever. and yes. that is a free mini ice cream cone that came with my coffee.
houligans boarding the tourist bus
snapshot of la cate y yo as we wait for the tourist bus
typical BUENOS AIRES ARCHITECTURE. que romantica.
cate and i on the tourist bus. i would argue that 70% of the reason we invested in the doudble decker was for the wind on the 2nd floor.
cate holding up the caricuture that some 12 yr old drew for us in plaza dorrego. obvioulsy, we were scammed.
miércoles, 27 de enero de 2010
FIRST DAY IN BUENOS AIRES
Tonight will be my first night in the hostel in Buenos Aires, and even without having experienced the nightlife, I already get what the hype is about. However, for better or worse, I understand it as a new Yorker; or rather, the things that I have fallen in love with already are the things that makes it similar to new york, and the things I love about my own city.
But this realization is not without others. For example, ive never considered myself much of an architecure person. Ive never studied it, and never repented not having studied it, so its been really suprising that the two places Ive really enjoyed thus far have been the places where the architecure has made a really impression on me. But ive found that rather than being impressed by the individual stucture or its mechanial features, I’m instead impressed by the aggregated physical aesetic that it contributes to the look of the city. The buildings in viña were a constant reminder that we were close to the playa, and that the people, despite the dismal politics and history of their country, could disassociate and embrace the gifts of their locale.
In Buenos Aires, the streets in between the big avenidas remind me of that classic upper west side block- between central park and Columbus, the ones when you walk down the center of the street the trees form a canopy over the rows of tightly parked cars, and only peripherally can you see the stoops and upper levels of brownstones. On the more central streets, theres an abundance of Italian-influenced buildings, with semi-juliet balconies and some novice stucco work…but very reminiscent of that building on the corner of 71st and broadway that you can see from the McDonalds corner. Again, its not that I find this style anything special, but only that it creates an urban aesethic that I relate to, and also one that I find particularly pleasing.
Although the cab driver who transported me to my hostel was less than friendly, im finding the staff at Rancho Urbano more than accommodating. The guy who checked me in gave me a host of things to do (including estimated sites of exhaustion), but I took to walking the main avenida, and gradually making my way to San Telmo, the acclaimed bohemian section of town. I encountered of a lot of independent designer boutiques- very sporty and colorful harem pants etc. The only thing that ive found regrettable about south American thus far is that the concept of an ice coffee is not only foreign but incomprehensible. And also the only thing that I crave in extreme urabn heat like this. There is nothing like walking around with a container-size cup of dunkin donuts coffee….wow, I didn’t think a MORE American phrase was possible. Alas, I managed to finagle one out of semi English speaking barista, and needless to say it hit the spot..and more.
I assume that each barrio has its own plaza central, but I doubt they have the duplicated sensation of those in traditional pueblos- tomorrow, cate and I will investigate. I’m thinking that we’re going to see Palermo tomorrow, the proclaimed Soho of Buenos Aires. It was exceptionally hot today, regardless of the fact that I was ill equipped by wearing jeans and boots.. all I know is that im doing the argentinian citizens a favor by sparing the sight of my re-opened bug-bites wounds that procured on the farm…ill think of it as the immigration impuesto that Argentina does not require.
The lights went out in the hostel and theres no internet. Thankfully, the fan is still working. Actually, im looking for a stronger word than thankfully. Mercifully?...Hm, too religious.
So its me and an un-opened bottle of wine, plus three Americans of still unidentified origin and age, although they don’t appear to be travelling together. One of them laughs like Mr.Schwaebach from high school. He’s older than the others and feels semi-out of place in the bohemian travelling culture. Outfitted in archeologist gear, in addition to his complete ignorance of the Beatles leads me to believe he’s into something with science- the nerdy type that recently finished med school, if not residency, and has just taken to travelling and the hostel culture.
The other guy just goes, “Its nice to come from one of the most prosperous countries in the world.” Oh man, I gotta get out of here.
But this realization is not without others. For example, ive never considered myself much of an architecure person. Ive never studied it, and never repented not having studied it, so its been really suprising that the two places Ive really enjoyed thus far have been the places where the architecure has made a really impression on me. But ive found that rather than being impressed by the individual stucture or its mechanial features, I’m instead impressed by the aggregated physical aesetic that it contributes to the look of the city. The buildings in viña were a constant reminder that we were close to the playa, and that the people, despite the dismal politics and history of their country, could disassociate and embrace the gifts of their locale.
In Buenos Aires, the streets in between the big avenidas remind me of that classic upper west side block- between central park and Columbus, the ones when you walk down the center of the street the trees form a canopy over the rows of tightly parked cars, and only peripherally can you see the stoops and upper levels of brownstones. On the more central streets, theres an abundance of Italian-influenced buildings, with semi-juliet balconies and some novice stucco work…but very reminiscent of that building on the corner of 71st and broadway that you can see from the McDonalds corner. Again, its not that I find this style anything special, but only that it creates an urban aesethic that I relate to, and also one that I find particularly pleasing.
Although the cab driver who transported me to my hostel was less than friendly, im finding the staff at Rancho Urbano more than accommodating. The guy who checked me in gave me a host of things to do (including estimated sites of exhaustion), but I took to walking the main avenida, and gradually making my way to San Telmo, the acclaimed bohemian section of town. I encountered of a lot of independent designer boutiques- very sporty and colorful harem pants etc. The only thing that ive found regrettable about south American thus far is that the concept of an ice coffee is not only foreign but incomprehensible. And also the only thing that I crave in extreme urabn heat like this. There is nothing like walking around with a container-size cup of dunkin donuts coffee….wow, I didn’t think a MORE American phrase was possible. Alas, I managed to finagle one out of semi English speaking barista, and needless to say it hit the spot..and more.
I assume that each barrio has its own plaza central, but I doubt they have the duplicated sensation of those in traditional pueblos- tomorrow, cate and I will investigate. I’m thinking that we’re going to see Palermo tomorrow, the proclaimed Soho of Buenos Aires. It was exceptionally hot today, regardless of the fact that I was ill equipped by wearing jeans and boots.. all I know is that im doing the argentinian citizens a favor by sparing the sight of my re-opened bug-bites wounds that procured on the farm…ill think of it as the immigration impuesto that Argentina does not require.
The lights went out in the hostel and theres no internet. Thankfully, the fan is still working. Actually, im looking for a stronger word than thankfully. Mercifully?...Hm, too religious.
So its me and an un-opened bottle of wine, plus three Americans of still unidentified origin and age, although they don’t appear to be travelling together. One of them laughs like Mr.Schwaebach from high school. He’s older than the others and feels semi-out of place in the bohemian travelling culture. Outfitted in archeologist gear, in addition to his complete ignorance of the Beatles leads me to believe he’s into something with science- the nerdy type that recently finished med school, if not residency, and has just taken to travelling and the hostel culture.
The other guy just goes, “Its nice to come from one of the most prosperous countries in the world.” Oh man, I gotta get out of here.
WWOOFING in chile
Travelling alone is a profoundly different, and infinitely more scary experience, especially with the current level of my Spanish. Currently, im on the 24 hour bus to Buenos aires from viña del mar. my journey started at 6:45 am, although I chose not to sleep out of some delirious notion that my slightly intoxicated state necessitated 2 hours to pack the ten things I left out?
I don’t know how strange I look witting with my laptop on a bus, but because most of my fellow passengers are savvy Buenos Airesans(?), the appearance of a Mac should not seem THAT foreign.
My travel panic started earlier than was necessary. The bus just simply did not show when it was supposed to. I struck up pleasantries with a couple of people around me to assuage my anxiety. “The buses arrive 2 minutes before or 3 minutes after their departure time, but leave shortly after. So be ready” (they said, in Spanish) so I waited and waited and nothing came. I saw a crowd gathering at what I was assuming was our departure lane, so finally I gather my 4 cumbersome travel companions and head inside to inquire. Something with the machina ended up being faulty, and thus I would have to take a bus to Santiago (la capital de chile) and then transfer buses. When were they going to announce this information?!??! It was as though if I didn’t inquire, they simply would have done nothing. After a hazy understanding of what was required of me in Santiago, I proceeded to doze lightly on the 2 hour connection. Once in Santiago, I made the quick transfer, and found myself next to a handsome Argentinian, whom ive yet to engage in some good spanglish confusion…oh, he does not know what hes in for.
I would say that the level of my spanish is currently intelligible, although my level of understanding is only at half-mass. By that I mean that I feel as though im understanding the information that people are trying to convey, but I could not do an exact translation of what they said/how they said it, and I always feel as if I haven’t understood ALL of what was said. This is just a progress report, not something that im legitimately concerned about/discouraged by.
Last night cate and I saw Avatar before going to valpo to see some sort of festival/music performance. All I knew about the movie was that people recommended seeing it in 3D; its content, its animation, even its director were completely unknown to me. Aside from the fact that I cried through the good majority of the movie and was incredibly moved by the story (impact of fern gully x100), I think im capable of offering SOME criticism despite my awe. Because I saw it in chile, a country that has a very recent and commanding past regarding the united states and the thematic role of first world/dominant world powers, it was a really intense experience to say the least. Obviously my fellow movie-watchers were not confronting the same feelings of guilt and shame- but were they thinking, “fuckin US, at it again…typical”? The movie had Spanish subtitles, but because it was not a dialogue-heavy movie, and most of the dialogue was idiomatic expressions of typical American personalities, most of the comedy was met with delayed sighs or grunts. Oh, and one last thing. Ill put it out there and stand by it. I thought the sex scene was good, if not great. Better, and more passionate than some sex scenes with humans. Very Pocahontas meets Twilight.
But, now for some WWOOFing reflection.
Unfortunately, I would say the experience, or rather the mentality that’s required of the workers, is not for me (at this moment, in my very young age). Perhaps it just doesn’t fit with my priorities- the priorities of a young female American, such as myself. But what was alarming about this realization was not only that I had encountered an opportunity that I had chosen for myself and not liked it, nor that I would allow myself to be stereotyped in such a way that conditions my incompatibility with WWOOFing. Both things are true and equally scary. But it was more that I lacked the maturity to engage in manual labor. And not only manual labor for long hours of the day (7am-9pm), but manual labor on the basis of survival.
I discovered this fact at the first farm. Cate and I had awoken at an ungodly hour to take a bus from viña to Santiago, and then from Santiago to Linares. We got to the farm at around 6pm, and were greeted by the youngest son and daughter near the road that the bus had left us. We had met another gringa at the bus station, and thought she was a fellow WWOOFer. It turned out that she had come to south America around a year ago and had recently bought the property that faced the WWOOFing family’s land. Her house still required a ton of renovation, but it seemed like a manageable project that she attended to every morning with renewed energy. She had also fell in love with a Chilean cyclist, which probably gave her good reason to stay. Her intention was to construct a 6-10 bedroom guesthouse and convert it into a health retreat for obese Chileans. Im not sure about statistics, aside from the fact that chile is the worlds greatest consumer and producer of trigo (grain from making bread), but I know that it’s an extremely bread-heavy culture. And not pan integral. White bread, with every meal, and most times in between. Her assumption might or might not have started with the realization that atkins would simply never work in this country…perhaps not, but its still a logical conclusion.
The first night we were there, we spent time with the family in the living room, sand-papering Calabasas (gords) that the family uses for all sorts of things (bowls, utensil dishes) and sells as artisania (cactus pots, mobiles etc).
pic
I instantly clicked with the oldest daughter over our fanatic love of twilight… this might have even occurred even before she burned me with instrument she uses to decorate the gords- needless to say, I have a great scar. The children-included bonding session took place only after we had been interrogated by the parents about our values, and why on earth we live in cities??!? It gets better…hang on.
The next morning we woke at 7, and met the family in the kitchen for a quick breakfast of pan and té- a routine that would be repeated every morning. I choose to work in the fields on the first day, and had cate take kitchen duty. My first days responsibilities required weeding and making new walking tracts in between the frambuesa (raspberry) bushes. It was in this time that I met the most unfriendly of creatures. And oh the irony. THEYRE ONLY IN CHILE FOR THE MONTH OF JANUARY—go fucking figure. Really, they have a commonly known departure date- January 21st. Here they’re called the tabanos, but further south theyre referred to as the coliguacho.
Pic
This quarter-sized nemisis to human life not only travels in 2’s and 3’s, but moronically makes circles around you while discharging a horrible buzzing noise. Most argue that it’s bite does not in fact sting. I beg to differ. Most also argue that they attack because they smell the fear hormone (if you produce it- which must mean that I had converted all of my estrogen to w/e this hormone is)… to make a 3-week story short, this first day was one of the rare occasions I found myself working outside.
Some, in this family and the next, were amused by my dislike. Others were aggravated by my inability of overcome their existence, but no one more so than myself. And not for a lack of trying. I tried headphones, prayer, meditation, yoga, mantras- nothing worked. On the third day, la patrona took me into the fields to pick flowers (ones that perhaps would not attract them) but when this task failed (or I failed at being able to stand the bugs), she stopped me on our walk back to the farm, turned to look and me and said, “its your nose ring. Its not platinum- the only noble metal. Its throwing off your energy. You have bad energy. And that’s why they come to you.” THANKS?
Needless to say, I found myself doing a lot of the food preparation, in addition to sweeping and cleaning. In chile, its custom to peel everything- tomatoes included. Im now a master peeler…not really much more to say about that.
Although housework can, at times, be quite relaxing, this family made nirvana more inaccessible than it would be in rush hour traffic. “No hablamos, gritamos” (We don’t talk, we yell). Naturally they were aware of this, but it didn’t stop them from bickering at even the most indecent times of day. OVER ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. It was apparent that they had had so many WWOOFers that outsiders didn’t seem like company, and they would conduct themselves without reservation.
My birthday happened to be more eventful than I would have ever thought possible. The kids had spoken of a hike that they intended to do the coming Sunday, but when we mentioned it was my birthday, they started hoarding the chickens eggs in order to make me a cake (it really turned out to be a cake for snacking on during the hike, but i guess I provided the excuse for a cake, as opposed to just bread) We were given the day off, and allowed to go with the kids and the gringa we met at the bus stop to this mountain called Vizcacha (?). However, when we got there, we discovered that we had been entered in a hiking race of sorts; we were given numbers, and maps, and they recorded our time at various points in the course. Needless to say, cate and I dominated.
Actually, we were amused at the time is took some people to complete the course…a good 2-3 hours after we had crossed the finish line.
Pic
At the end of the course we were given a hearty pasta meal, during which I consumed my first alcolohic beverage as a legal drinker- light beer and orange fanta! Later that day we were given medals and t-shirts and congratulated with an awards-ceremony of sorts. It was almost embarrassing how unchallenging the course was..and receiving a medal for completing it was as good as mocking us. Later that day, we ended up a clinica because one of the girls had suffered from severe dehydration. The situation was not scary, but in any case, it did highlight our failing health care system and that if this happened in the united states, should would have had to pay generously for her banal diagnosis and an IV drip.
We only stayed at that farm for 5 days because another WWOOFer, this one male and apparently more useful than us, was coming. Some of the highlights were definitely the mothers comment about my nose ring. But its necessary to make this comment more contextual. Upon first meeting us, we proceeded to have a brief discussion of the city and country we come from. During said time, she managed to voice her belief that 9/11 was a conspiracy that the US government was in on. Okay. Later, she told us that cities were the creation of hombre (man) but with the influence of the devil. These were not Christian people. Moreover, the mother would spend her nights transcribing messages that she received from aliens- secrets and information about human evolution etc. Quite an ironic scene; 3 kids squatted around a T.V watching trashy news reports about crime and sex scandals, while their mother meditates and channels other worldy beings.
It was this ‘source’ that she used to refute our argument that cities occurred because the countryside was not able to sustain a growing population and the problems that people were encountering without the existence of government and laws.
“Who told you this?”
“Its just the course of history, its logical, but I guess we also learned it by studying the history of most countries.”
“Well, its incorrect, I know otherwise.”
The father had a less abrasive approach, although he was definitely in the same camp as his wife, despite not being one of the ‘chosen ones’. The one thing he said that stuck with me most was the idea that in cities, ones external senses are constantly being engaged- a restlessness or circumspection of everyone and everything. Por eso, one cannot concentrate on the inner senses, and reach a state of inner tranquility because there is too much going on on the outside. Its an idea that doesn’t seem terribly relevant to me as of yet and hasn’t posed many probelsm, but I think that in the future, wanting to reach/reaching this point will be something I covet.
We left in the middle of the day and arrived in Concepción at around 6 oclock. Finding a hostel was only semi difficult but we settled in a cheap pension, which is like a person who has a lot of vacant rooms in their house and rents them out occasionally; needless to say we were the only guests. Cate and I dined over a fantastic bottle of wine and pretty incredible Italian cuisine in celebration of my 21st year. At 5 the next day, we met Andy, the owner of the second WWOOFing farm that was in Concep dropping another WWOOFer at the bus.
Despite preparing myself for an aussie accent, andy turned out to be an older British gentlemen with embarrassing Spanish. He had met Carmen, la Patrona de la casa, in the mid-90’s back in England but she had convinced him to move back to Chile with her. She would not arrive until 3 days later, but what she lacked for in time, she made up for in evil.
(..to be continued)
pictures:
our view on the farm.
our moms prayer circle...how she communicated with aliens
meta! (finish line)
our living quarters
the family home.
mid-climb kodak moment
top of the mountain: our time 2:37...not bad?
cate and i wearing our t-shirts after the race
our woodburning stove...what we used to cook all of our meals
picture of the enemy
me on my 21st birthday!
artesania that the family makes out of calabasas (gords)
I don’t know how strange I look witting with my laptop on a bus, but because most of my fellow passengers are savvy Buenos Airesans(?), the appearance of a Mac should not seem THAT foreign.
My travel panic started earlier than was necessary. The bus just simply did not show when it was supposed to. I struck up pleasantries with a couple of people around me to assuage my anxiety. “The buses arrive 2 minutes before or 3 minutes after their departure time, but leave shortly after. So be ready” (they said, in Spanish) so I waited and waited and nothing came. I saw a crowd gathering at what I was assuming was our departure lane, so finally I gather my 4 cumbersome travel companions and head inside to inquire. Something with the machina ended up being faulty, and thus I would have to take a bus to Santiago (la capital de chile) and then transfer buses. When were they going to announce this information?!??! It was as though if I didn’t inquire, they simply would have done nothing. After a hazy understanding of what was required of me in Santiago, I proceeded to doze lightly on the 2 hour connection. Once in Santiago, I made the quick transfer, and found myself next to a handsome Argentinian, whom ive yet to engage in some good spanglish confusion…oh, he does not know what hes in for.
I would say that the level of my spanish is currently intelligible, although my level of understanding is only at half-mass. By that I mean that I feel as though im understanding the information that people are trying to convey, but I could not do an exact translation of what they said/how they said it, and I always feel as if I haven’t understood ALL of what was said. This is just a progress report, not something that im legitimately concerned about/discouraged by.
Last night cate and I saw Avatar before going to valpo to see some sort of festival/music performance. All I knew about the movie was that people recommended seeing it in 3D; its content, its animation, even its director were completely unknown to me. Aside from the fact that I cried through the good majority of the movie and was incredibly moved by the story (impact of fern gully x100), I think im capable of offering SOME criticism despite my awe. Because I saw it in chile, a country that has a very recent and commanding past regarding the united states and the thematic role of first world/dominant world powers, it was a really intense experience to say the least. Obviously my fellow movie-watchers were not confronting the same feelings of guilt and shame- but were they thinking, “fuckin US, at it again…typical”? The movie had Spanish subtitles, but because it was not a dialogue-heavy movie, and most of the dialogue was idiomatic expressions of typical American personalities, most of the comedy was met with delayed sighs or grunts. Oh, and one last thing. Ill put it out there and stand by it. I thought the sex scene was good, if not great. Better, and more passionate than some sex scenes with humans. Very Pocahontas meets Twilight.
But, now for some WWOOFing reflection.
Unfortunately, I would say the experience, or rather the mentality that’s required of the workers, is not for me (at this moment, in my very young age). Perhaps it just doesn’t fit with my priorities- the priorities of a young female American, such as myself. But what was alarming about this realization was not only that I had encountered an opportunity that I had chosen for myself and not liked it, nor that I would allow myself to be stereotyped in such a way that conditions my incompatibility with WWOOFing. Both things are true and equally scary. But it was more that I lacked the maturity to engage in manual labor. And not only manual labor for long hours of the day (7am-9pm), but manual labor on the basis of survival.
I discovered this fact at the first farm. Cate and I had awoken at an ungodly hour to take a bus from viña to Santiago, and then from Santiago to Linares. We got to the farm at around 6pm, and were greeted by the youngest son and daughter near the road that the bus had left us. We had met another gringa at the bus station, and thought she was a fellow WWOOFer. It turned out that she had come to south America around a year ago and had recently bought the property that faced the WWOOFing family’s land. Her house still required a ton of renovation, but it seemed like a manageable project that she attended to every morning with renewed energy. She had also fell in love with a Chilean cyclist, which probably gave her good reason to stay. Her intention was to construct a 6-10 bedroom guesthouse and convert it into a health retreat for obese Chileans. Im not sure about statistics, aside from the fact that chile is the worlds greatest consumer and producer of trigo (grain from making bread), but I know that it’s an extremely bread-heavy culture. And not pan integral. White bread, with every meal, and most times in between. Her assumption might or might not have started with the realization that atkins would simply never work in this country…perhaps not, but its still a logical conclusion.
The first night we were there, we spent time with the family in the living room, sand-papering Calabasas (gords) that the family uses for all sorts of things (bowls, utensil dishes) and sells as artisania (cactus pots, mobiles etc).
pic
I instantly clicked with the oldest daughter over our fanatic love of twilight… this might have even occurred even before she burned me with instrument she uses to decorate the gords- needless to say, I have a great scar. The children-included bonding session took place only after we had been interrogated by the parents about our values, and why on earth we live in cities??!? It gets better…hang on.
The next morning we woke at 7, and met the family in the kitchen for a quick breakfast of pan and té- a routine that would be repeated every morning. I choose to work in the fields on the first day, and had cate take kitchen duty. My first days responsibilities required weeding and making new walking tracts in between the frambuesa (raspberry) bushes. It was in this time that I met the most unfriendly of creatures. And oh the irony. THEYRE ONLY IN CHILE FOR THE MONTH OF JANUARY—go fucking figure. Really, they have a commonly known departure date- January 21st. Here they’re called the tabanos, but further south theyre referred to as the coliguacho.
Pic
This quarter-sized nemisis to human life not only travels in 2’s and 3’s, but moronically makes circles around you while discharging a horrible buzzing noise. Most argue that it’s bite does not in fact sting. I beg to differ. Most also argue that they attack because they smell the fear hormone (if you produce it- which must mean that I had converted all of my estrogen to w/e this hormone is)… to make a 3-week story short, this first day was one of the rare occasions I found myself working outside.
Some, in this family and the next, were amused by my dislike. Others were aggravated by my inability of overcome their existence, but no one more so than myself. And not for a lack of trying. I tried headphones, prayer, meditation, yoga, mantras- nothing worked. On the third day, la patrona took me into the fields to pick flowers (ones that perhaps would not attract them) but when this task failed (or I failed at being able to stand the bugs), she stopped me on our walk back to the farm, turned to look and me and said, “its your nose ring. Its not platinum- the only noble metal. Its throwing off your energy. You have bad energy. And that’s why they come to you.” THANKS?
Needless to say, I found myself doing a lot of the food preparation, in addition to sweeping and cleaning. In chile, its custom to peel everything- tomatoes included. Im now a master peeler…not really much more to say about that.
Although housework can, at times, be quite relaxing, this family made nirvana more inaccessible than it would be in rush hour traffic. “No hablamos, gritamos” (We don’t talk, we yell). Naturally they were aware of this, but it didn’t stop them from bickering at even the most indecent times of day. OVER ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING. It was apparent that they had had so many WWOOFers that outsiders didn’t seem like company, and they would conduct themselves without reservation.
My birthday happened to be more eventful than I would have ever thought possible. The kids had spoken of a hike that they intended to do the coming Sunday, but when we mentioned it was my birthday, they started hoarding the chickens eggs in order to make me a cake (it really turned out to be a cake for snacking on during the hike, but i guess I provided the excuse for a cake, as opposed to just bread) We were given the day off, and allowed to go with the kids and the gringa we met at the bus stop to this mountain called Vizcacha (?). However, when we got there, we discovered that we had been entered in a hiking race of sorts; we were given numbers, and maps, and they recorded our time at various points in the course. Needless to say, cate and I dominated.
Actually, we were amused at the time is took some people to complete the course…a good 2-3 hours after we had crossed the finish line.
Pic
At the end of the course we were given a hearty pasta meal, during which I consumed my first alcolohic beverage as a legal drinker- light beer and orange fanta! Later that day we were given medals and t-shirts and congratulated with an awards-ceremony of sorts. It was almost embarrassing how unchallenging the course was..and receiving a medal for completing it was as good as mocking us. Later that day, we ended up a clinica because one of the girls had suffered from severe dehydration. The situation was not scary, but in any case, it did highlight our failing health care system and that if this happened in the united states, should would have had to pay generously for her banal diagnosis and an IV drip.
We only stayed at that farm for 5 days because another WWOOFer, this one male and apparently more useful than us, was coming. Some of the highlights were definitely the mothers comment about my nose ring. But its necessary to make this comment more contextual. Upon first meeting us, we proceeded to have a brief discussion of the city and country we come from. During said time, she managed to voice her belief that 9/11 was a conspiracy that the US government was in on. Okay. Later, she told us that cities were the creation of hombre (man) but with the influence of the devil. These were not Christian people. Moreover, the mother would spend her nights transcribing messages that she received from aliens- secrets and information about human evolution etc. Quite an ironic scene; 3 kids squatted around a T.V watching trashy news reports about crime and sex scandals, while their mother meditates and channels other worldy beings.
It was this ‘source’ that she used to refute our argument that cities occurred because the countryside was not able to sustain a growing population and the problems that people were encountering without the existence of government and laws.
“Who told you this?”
“Its just the course of history, its logical, but I guess we also learned it by studying the history of most countries.”
“Well, its incorrect, I know otherwise.”
The father had a less abrasive approach, although he was definitely in the same camp as his wife, despite not being one of the ‘chosen ones’. The one thing he said that stuck with me most was the idea that in cities, ones external senses are constantly being engaged- a restlessness or circumspection of everyone and everything. Por eso, one cannot concentrate on the inner senses, and reach a state of inner tranquility because there is too much going on on the outside. Its an idea that doesn’t seem terribly relevant to me as of yet and hasn’t posed many probelsm, but I think that in the future, wanting to reach/reaching this point will be something I covet.
We left in the middle of the day and arrived in Concepción at around 6 oclock. Finding a hostel was only semi difficult but we settled in a cheap pension, which is like a person who has a lot of vacant rooms in their house and rents them out occasionally; needless to say we were the only guests. Cate and I dined over a fantastic bottle of wine and pretty incredible Italian cuisine in celebration of my 21st year. At 5 the next day, we met Andy, the owner of the second WWOOFing farm that was in Concep dropping another WWOOFer at the bus.
Despite preparing myself for an aussie accent, andy turned out to be an older British gentlemen with embarrassing Spanish. He had met Carmen, la Patrona de la casa, in the mid-90’s back in England but she had convinced him to move back to Chile with her. She would not arrive until 3 days later, but what she lacked for in time, she made up for in evil.
(..to be continued)
pictures:
our view on the farm.
our moms prayer circle...how she communicated with aliens
meta! (finish line)
our living quarters
the family home.
mid-climb kodak moment
top of the mountain: our time 2:37...not bad?
cate and i wearing our t-shirts after the race
our woodburning stove...what we used to cook all of our meals
picture of the enemy
me on my 21st birthday!
artesania that the family makes out of calabasas (gords)
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