Argentina
If you're not down with reading the entirety of this post, here's the short version. I decided to visit Argentina for a month, and have been seeing lots of cathedrals and parks and interesting cultural stuff in Mendoza, Jujuy (northern Argentina), Córdoba, and now Buenos Aires. The buses are expensive and the journeys grindingly long, but the ice cream is delicious, as are the pastries. The new pope is Argentine and he's the first from Latin America. To say the Argentines are proud and excited is an understatement - news and interviews in Argentina have been literally nonstop since the papacy was announced. My next stop is Bariloche, then it's back to Chile.
Argentina. Well, my trip through Argentina was partially planned beforehand and partially a conversation with myself that I was playing it safe staying in Chile. It was also partially because I had told a friend I would visit him the next time I returned to Chile, and he happened to move to Buenos Aires before I made it to Chile. Who in their right mind gives an offhand promise like "Sure, I'll visit you," then actually follows through when they move across the continent? I thought it would be a good idea, so for better or worse I took the night bus from Valparaiso to Mendoza on February 25 and with that my next adventure was underway.
Argentina has been a series of short homestays with friends and friends of friends all over the country. On the whole, I'm not enjoying it as much as Chile, partly because Argentina is huge and buses are boring, but also because traveling solo without a car is semi frustrating and lonely. Without a companion no one is there to bounce ideas off of, to plan adventures, to tell stories, to share food, to convince me to do things I wouldn't otherwise do, to go camping and trekking, and the list goes on. It's cool to stay with people who know the area every time I stop, but really I miss having someone to pass the time with. Lesson learned. The next trip will have to be with my sister, I suppose.
Argentina has a bit of everything, and I spent a few days in Mendoza with a friend from college and had some excellent wine and food, and made some cookies which were a big hit with all the expats. From Mendoza I headed up to Salta. I was expecting more of a desert climate but ended up with humid cloud forests. I wanted to visit Parque Nacional El Rey, but it turns out that's pretty much impossible without my own truck. I spent the day wandering around Salta and climbing up Cerro San Bernardo for a panoramic view of the city, then dinner and a night in a hostel with a group of Israelis, among others.
An early start saw me on another bus north, heading to Humahuaca to see the sandstone cliffs and the small traditional town. I should have taken pictures of the artisan work there, since it was by far the most interesting that I have seen in Argentina, but it didn't occur to me at the time. All the kids in the plaza try to con money out of the tourists by offering to sing a song or recite a poem, but as far as I could see they weren't having much luck. I ended up spending part of the day with two guys from Colorado wandering around town and talking about our respective journeys around Latin America and of course our love for Colorado.
After separating from them, I found out that even small middle of the desert towns have really sketchy areas. I walked into a local market primarily filled with about 15 different types of potatoes, ranging in color and size. My progress was followed by far too many eyes, and when a seller offered me his hand with a too-big smile and a "bienvenidos a Humahuaca," it was abundantly clear that a fast retreat was in order. I booked it back to the bus station and hopped on the next bus into San Salvador de Jujuy.
One of the problems with traveling solo is that people, especially men, see me alone with a big pack and immediately think it necessary to talk to me. Sometimes they are helpful and have fascinating stories, but more often they offer to pay for a taxi ride or a hotel room, which I politely but firmly refuse.
Sometimes I despair at humanity's lack.
In Jujuy I stayed with another college friend, meeting her family and exploring with her. She treated me to an awesome dinner of picante de pollo and picante de quinoa (my fave) the night we met up. We hiked around the Seven-Color Hills in Pumamarca and visited the pre-Incan Pukará and local museum in Tilcara, then met up with a friend who took us up the mountains behind town for a at terrifying speeds around too-sharp curves for an evening hike to the Garganta del Diablo, the Devil's Throat, a waterfall spraying a thin mist over the sheer drop into the canyon below. The railing makes it easy to lean out over the edge, a motion sure to induce vertigo. We hiked down to the stream and followed it to its source almost at a run to beat nightfall. What seemed like a hundred river crossings brought us to another set of waterfalls as the sun was disappearing and the clouds descended. The hundred river crossings back to the truck were achieved with the grey light of dusk creating solid rock out of shadows where no rock existed.
We took the road into Tilcara at a more moderate speed, listening to traditional music from northern Argentina and marveling at the lights illuminating houses and streets carved into a desert landscape. Hunched in coats to block out the rising wind, we made our way to the bus station, sharing the streets with a procession of musicians and dancers carrying the Virgin in a celebration of worship. Midnight saw us safely home to a delicious hot dinner and warm beds.
The next day I got to know Palpalá, made cookies and watched Lincoln - a rest day. The next afternoon we all crowded into a taxi to visit an abandoned iron mining resort town in the middle of the forest. It's hard to explain, but essentially the bosses and engineers who prospered from mining created this complex with a futbol field, basketball court, swimming pool, horseback riding, a huge jungle gym, a first aid station and little food shops. The houses are abandoned now, save a select few, the pool is empty and the horses graze freely. It may come alive in summer, but we felt like the only souls walking through a ghost town, reminded of our own reality by blood trickling from bites from vicious insects buzzing in the still air.
We shared maté and the last of the cookies on the grass near the pool before heading home.
That night, bag packed, I took the overnight bus to Cordoba. I showed up on the doorstep of a friend of a friend who has hands down the coolest house of the trip so far. It reminds me of the old houses in Valpo, with high ceilings and archways creating an open bottom floor plan and a big marble staircase leading up to the second floor and the bedrooms. It also had a patio in the back with a winding metal staircase leading up to the terraza on the roof that looks out over the city.
As with any respectable city in Argentina, the main square houses the cabildo, the cathedral, and a great big statue. I spent some time visiting the historic sites and spent an entire afternoon in the Museo de la Memoria, the museum that recounts atrocities, disappearances and legislation carried out by the dictatorship during the Dirty War. Cordoba was celebrating international women's day, so I stopped into the opening of a gallery of women's art on the way home, and was delighted by the free wine and snacks. The gallery was decidedly strange, but it was thought-provoking, so I suppose it achieved its aim. I wrote in my journal while on a couch in the gallery, but those reflections are for another time. Women's day was also a time for music, so my housemates and I headed to the teatro griego in Parque Sarmiento (which has awesome sculptures) to rock out to the women's groups performing their music at the "ellas se hacen escuchar" concert. Here's a short video of all the performances. My absolute favorite was a group of women playing box drums (5:00). The rhythms were incredible, and the energy intoxicating.
I also spent two days in the sierras outside of Cordoba at a birthday party hanging out at the river and listening to some forty people chat about their lives, into which I felt an intruder. That night I set up the tent to sleep, and outlasted the most terrific storm, complete with thunder, lightning, howling wind and pounding rain, snug and dry. Props to the REI tent (though it's a little short and anyone over about 5'10" would be pushing at the top and bottom all night). The sierras are green rolling hills with hidden streams and houses, a nice break from the city.
At the house I treated my new housemates to some cookies and lemon bars throughout the week, and was treated to some excellent dinners and a barbecue. Chocolate chips, though not as good as in the US, are easy to find here. Any dietetica stocks them. Dieteticas, by the way, are some of my favorite stores besides bakeries. They are health food stores, but that basically just means they sell chocolate and nuts and grains and granola bars, among other things, in bulk. It's a nice change from Chile, as are the innumerable sweet breads and tasty flaky danishes and things that every bakery sells. Also, on the streets here ("here" being in and around Buenos Aires) people walk around with huge baskets selling pan relleno, which is warm bread with (usually) ham and melted cheese or (sometimes) tomato and egg or tomato, basil and cheese inside. The guy at the train station has ones that look like perfect loaves of bread, and I am determined to figure out how to make them like his, with fluffy bread and no seams.
I should have spent my time more wisely in Cordoba, but as it was I spent most of my time reading and chatting with my housemates and their friends, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have a list for next time I visit, but next time will be with a car and a companion.
I caught the midnight bus to La Plata, a suburb/city near Buenos Aires, to stay with my Chilean friend for the week. Tomorrow I'm off to Bariloche, then I'm finally back to Chile on March 26, but today I enjoyed some pretty good ice cream. They let you buy it by the 1/2 kilo or kilo or anything in between, so we split a 1/2 kilo of chocolate relleno (chocolate with swirls of dulce de leche), café (coffee, my favorite every time), and crema duranzo (vanilla with peach chunks). It's no insane Bravissimo creation, but pretty delicious all the same. (I spent my entire semester in Chile eating ice cream with an equally obsessed friend at Bravissimo at least once a week, and we managed to order almost all of their creations by the end. My favorite is the Copa Millenium Berries - four flavors of ice cream, berries, berry syrup, a solid layer of whipped cream, and two triangular sheets of solid chocolate rising out of the cream like shining towers.)
Speaking of towers, La Plata has the largest cathedral in Argentina, and one of the largest in Latin America. It is my favorite of all I have visited so far, primarily because it lets in enormous amounts of light which reflects beautifully on all the gold and shines through intricate stained glass. The ceiling looks like it goes on forever, and is just as beautiful as the rest of the building and completely illuminated by rows upon rows of windows. Also, all the statues in the plaza point to the cross. Conveniently, La Plata is completely gridded and numbered radiating out from the central plaza, so it's easy to navigate. It has tons of green spaces at regular intervals, and they tell me there's a kid's theme park like Disney Land somewhere nearby. It's called República de Los Niños, if you're interested in looking it up, and it was created in 1949 to be a model city for ten-year-olds to understand how a city and government work so they could grow up to be model citizens.
The university-sponsored museum is pretty cool, housed in a three story building that looks like it could be the capital building or something, and has an impressive collection of stuffed animals and skeleton reproductions. The second floor is all anthropology, and I learned quite a lot about the original tribes in southern Argentina. I never got as far as the third floor, since it's partially under construction and we visited too near closing time. Their closing procedure is the most effective I have experienced - pull the fire alarm, and everyone leaves in a hurry to escape the din.
Buenos Aires is a cool city, and I definitely prefer it to the madness of Santiago. Together with my friend we visited the more touristy sites - the San Telmo market, Plaza San Martin, Plaza 21 de mayo where the mothers still march every Thursday, the Casa Rosada government building, the obelisk, and a little bit of shopping in la boca to find a soccer jersey (which is totally a fake, by the way. There's a huge business in knockoffs here, and they come primarily from Paraguay). We also visited the Catholic Cathedral the day after the new pope was announced, and it was a zoo. The room dedicated yo General San Martín is beautiful and has guards all day, but I still prefer the Catedral in La Plata. Buenos Aires is enormous, but it feels like a walkable city. Also, the train from La Plata costs 3 pesos (60 cents) each way. We spent our time wandering around with no particular intention other than to see the city from the ground, an on the way home on the train my friend pointed out all the soccer stadiums. Evidently soccer teams can't share a stadium - my friend looked at me like I was insane to even suggest such an idea - so every team has its own stadium.
With so much city time, I'm ready to escape and do some hiking or kayaking or rafting or biking (or all of the above) in the south. I have a bit of cash left, and Argentine pesos get a terrible exchange rate, so I'm planning on spending any extra on fun stuff and chocolate before crossing the border.
Much love to everyone, and next month there will even be pictures with my posts!
Argentina. Well, my trip through Argentina was partially planned beforehand and partially a conversation with myself that I was playing it safe staying in Chile. It was also partially because I had told a friend I would visit him the next time I returned to Chile, and he happened to move to Buenos Aires before I made it to Chile. Who in their right mind gives an offhand promise like "Sure, I'll visit you," then actually follows through when they move across the continent? I thought it would be a good idea, so for better or worse I took the night bus from Valparaiso to Mendoza on February 25 and with that my next adventure was underway.
Argentina has been a series of short homestays with friends and friends of friends all over the country. On the whole, I'm not enjoying it as much as Chile, partly because Argentina is huge and buses are boring, but also because traveling solo without a car is semi frustrating and lonely. Without a companion no one is there to bounce ideas off of, to plan adventures, to tell stories, to share food, to convince me to do things I wouldn't otherwise do, to go camping and trekking, and the list goes on. It's cool to stay with people who know the area every time I stop, but really I miss having someone to pass the time with. Lesson learned. The next trip will have to be with my sister, I suppose.
Argentina has a bit of everything, and I spent a few days in Mendoza with a friend from college and had some excellent wine and food, and made some cookies which were a big hit with all the expats. From Mendoza I headed up to Salta. I was expecting more of a desert climate but ended up with humid cloud forests. I wanted to visit Parque Nacional El Rey, but it turns out that's pretty much impossible without my own truck. I spent the day wandering around Salta and climbing up Cerro San Bernardo for a panoramic view of the city, then dinner and a night in a hostel with a group of Israelis, among others.
An early start saw me on another bus north, heading to Humahuaca to see the sandstone cliffs and the small traditional town. I should have taken pictures of the artisan work there, since it was by far the most interesting that I have seen in Argentina, but it didn't occur to me at the time. All the kids in the plaza try to con money out of the tourists by offering to sing a song or recite a poem, but as far as I could see they weren't having much luck. I ended up spending part of the day with two guys from Colorado wandering around town and talking about our respective journeys around Latin America and of course our love for Colorado.
After separating from them, I found out that even small middle of the desert towns have really sketchy areas. I walked into a local market primarily filled with about 15 different types of potatoes, ranging in color and size. My progress was followed by far too many eyes, and when a seller offered me his hand with a too-big smile and a "bienvenidos a Humahuaca," it was abundantly clear that a fast retreat was in order. I booked it back to the bus station and hopped on the next bus into San Salvador de Jujuy.
One of the problems with traveling solo is that people, especially men, see me alone with a big pack and immediately think it necessary to talk to me. Sometimes they are helpful and have fascinating stories, but more often they offer to pay for a taxi ride or a hotel room, which I politely but firmly refuse.
Sometimes I despair at humanity's lack.
In Jujuy I stayed with another college friend, meeting her family and exploring with her. She treated me to an awesome dinner of picante de pollo and picante de quinoa (my fave) the night we met up. We hiked around the Seven-Color Hills in Pumamarca and visited the pre-Incan Pukará and local museum in Tilcara, then met up with a friend who took us up the mountains behind town for a at terrifying speeds around too-sharp curves for an evening hike to the Garganta del Diablo, the Devil's Throat, a waterfall spraying a thin mist over the sheer drop into the canyon below. The railing makes it easy to lean out over the edge, a motion sure to induce vertigo. We hiked down to the stream and followed it to its source almost at a run to beat nightfall. What seemed like a hundred river crossings brought us to another set of waterfalls as the sun was disappearing and the clouds descended. The hundred river crossings back to the truck were achieved with the grey light of dusk creating solid rock out of shadows where no rock existed.
We took the road into Tilcara at a more moderate speed, listening to traditional music from northern Argentina and marveling at the lights illuminating houses and streets carved into a desert landscape. Hunched in coats to block out the rising wind, we made our way to the bus station, sharing the streets with a procession of musicians and dancers carrying the Virgin in a celebration of worship. Midnight saw us safely home to a delicious hot dinner and warm beds.
The next day I got to know Palpalá, made cookies and watched Lincoln - a rest day. The next afternoon we all crowded into a taxi to visit an abandoned iron mining resort town in the middle of the forest. It's hard to explain, but essentially the bosses and engineers who prospered from mining created this complex with a futbol field, basketball court, swimming pool, horseback riding, a huge jungle gym, a first aid station and little food shops. The houses are abandoned now, save a select few, the pool is empty and the horses graze freely. It may come alive in summer, but we felt like the only souls walking through a ghost town, reminded of our own reality by blood trickling from bites from vicious insects buzzing in the still air.
We shared maté and the last of the cookies on the grass near the pool before heading home.
That night, bag packed, I took the overnight bus to Cordoba. I showed up on the doorstep of a friend of a friend who has hands down the coolest house of the trip so far. It reminds me of the old houses in Valpo, with high ceilings and archways creating an open bottom floor plan and a big marble staircase leading up to the second floor and the bedrooms. It also had a patio in the back with a winding metal staircase leading up to the terraza on the roof that looks out over the city.
As with any respectable city in Argentina, the main square houses the cabildo, the cathedral, and a great big statue. I spent some time visiting the historic sites and spent an entire afternoon in the Museo de la Memoria, the museum that recounts atrocities, disappearances and legislation carried out by the dictatorship during the Dirty War. Cordoba was celebrating international women's day, so I stopped into the opening of a gallery of women's art on the way home, and was delighted by the free wine and snacks. The gallery was decidedly strange, but it was thought-provoking, so I suppose it achieved its aim. I wrote in my journal while on a couch in the gallery, but those reflections are for another time. Women's day was also a time for music, so my housemates and I headed to the teatro griego in Parque Sarmiento (which has awesome sculptures) to rock out to the women's groups performing their music at the "ellas se hacen escuchar" concert. Here's a short video of all the performances. My absolute favorite was a group of women playing box drums (5:00). The rhythms were incredible, and the energy intoxicating.
I also spent two days in the sierras outside of Cordoba at a birthday party hanging out at the river and listening to some forty people chat about their lives, into which I felt an intruder. That night I set up the tent to sleep, and outlasted the most terrific storm, complete with thunder, lightning, howling wind and pounding rain, snug and dry. Props to the REI tent (though it's a little short and anyone over about 5'10" would be pushing at the top and bottom all night). The sierras are green rolling hills with hidden streams and houses, a nice break from the city.
At the house I treated my new housemates to some cookies and lemon bars throughout the week, and was treated to some excellent dinners and a barbecue. Chocolate chips, though not as good as in the US, are easy to find here. Any dietetica stocks them. Dieteticas, by the way, are some of my favorite stores besides bakeries. They are health food stores, but that basically just means they sell chocolate and nuts and grains and granola bars, among other things, in bulk. It's a nice change from Chile, as are the innumerable sweet breads and tasty flaky danishes and things that every bakery sells. Also, on the streets here ("here" being in and around Buenos Aires) people walk around with huge baskets selling pan relleno, which is warm bread with (usually) ham and melted cheese or (sometimes) tomato and egg or tomato, basil and cheese inside. The guy at the train station has ones that look like perfect loaves of bread, and I am determined to figure out how to make them like his, with fluffy bread and no seams.
I should have spent my time more wisely in Cordoba, but as it was I spent most of my time reading and chatting with my housemates and their friends, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I have a list for next time I visit, but next time will be with a car and a companion.
I caught the midnight bus to La Plata, a suburb/city near Buenos Aires, to stay with my Chilean friend for the week. Tomorrow I'm off to Bariloche, then I'm finally back to Chile on March 26, but today I enjoyed some pretty good ice cream. They let you buy it by the 1/2 kilo or kilo or anything in between, so we split a 1/2 kilo of chocolate relleno (chocolate with swirls of dulce de leche), café (coffee, my favorite every time), and crema duranzo (vanilla with peach chunks). It's no insane Bravissimo creation, but pretty delicious all the same. (I spent my entire semester in Chile eating ice cream with an equally obsessed friend at Bravissimo at least once a week, and we managed to order almost all of their creations by the end. My favorite is the Copa Millenium Berries - four flavors of ice cream, berries, berry syrup, a solid layer of whipped cream, and two triangular sheets of solid chocolate rising out of the cream like shining towers.)
Speaking of towers, La Plata has the largest cathedral in Argentina, and one of the largest in Latin America. It is my favorite of all I have visited so far, primarily because it lets in enormous amounts of light which reflects beautifully on all the gold and shines through intricate stained glass. The ceiling looks like it goes on forever, and is just as beautiful as the rest of the building and completely illuminated by rows upon rows of windows. Also, all the statues in the plaza point to the cross. Conveniently, La Plata is completely gridded and numbered radiating out from the central plaza, so it's easy to navigate. It has tons of green spaces at regular intervals, and they tell me there's a kid's theme park like Disney Land somewhere nearby. It's called República de Los Niños, if you're interested in looking it up, and it was created in 1949 to be a model city for ten-year-olds to understand how a city and government work so they could grow up to be model citizens.
The university-sponsored museum is pretty cool, housed in a three story building that looks like it could be the capital building or something, and has an impressive collection of stuffed animals and skeleton reproductions. The second floor is all anthropology, and I learned quite a lot about the original tribes in southern Argentina. I never got as far as the third floor, since it's partially under construction and we visited too near closing time. Their closing procedure is the most effective I have experienced - pull the fire alarm, and everyone leaves in a hurry to escape the din.
Buenos Aires is a cool city, and I definitely prefer it to the madness of Santiago. Together with my friend we visited the more touristy sites - the San Telmo market, Plaza San Martin, Plaza 21 de mayo where the mothers still march every Thursday, the Casa Rosada government building, the obelisk, and a little bit of shopping in la boca to find a soccer jersey (which is totally a fake, by the way. There's a huge business in knockoffs here, and they come primarily from Paraguay). We also visited the Catholic Cathedral the day after the new pope was announced, and it was a zoo. The room dedicated yo General San Martín is beautiful and has guards all day, but I still prefer the Catedral in La Plata. Buenos Aires is enormous, but it feels like a walkable city. Also, the train from La Plata costs 3 pesos (60 cents) each way. We spent our time wandering around with no particular intention other than to see the city from the ground, an on the way home on the train my friend pointed out all the soccer stadiums. Evidently soccer teams can't share a stadium - my friend looked at me like I was insane to even suggest such an idea - so every team has its own stadium.
With so much city time, I'm ready to escape and do some hiking or kayaking or rafting or biking (or all of the above) in the south. I have a bit of cash left, and Argentine pesos get a terrible exchange rate, so I'm planning on spending any extra on fun stuff and chocolate before crossing the border.
Much love to everyone, and next month there will even be pictures with my posts!
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