I left my heart in Valparaiso

Talor: On our 6-month anniversary, it felt apropos as we boarded a bus from Uspallata, Argentina, for a 6 1/2 hour ride to Valparaiso, Chile. Without a guidebook this time (oh no!), we didn´t know what to expect, and as the bus rolled into the terminal, it was the usual hectic ugliness you see everywhere... sigh. Split a taxi with two young Asian Americans we met on the bus and headed to Cerro Concepcion to look for accommodations for the evening. The scenery around us was pretty much the same ole until we got to the hills, then I fell in love immediately! Valparaiso is so many things...

... it is a place where art is everywhere you look... in the parks, on the sides of houses and buildings, outside shops and restaurants, even the garbage cans are painted! Up on the hills, there are a million little alleys and sidestreets to explore with delightful surprises with every twist and turn. On top of that, the views from the hills are simply gorgeous!

... it is a place where we found THE perfect shower! After spending our first night in a hostal, we were lucky to find Casa Liesel in Cerro Concepcion, a hospedaje (family-run guesthouse), where our warm hosts Maria and Miguel, kept everything absolutely spotless. We got a very comfortable, very large room with high ceilings, and though the bathrooms were shared, the showers were heaven... the perfect combination of heat and water pressure. Throw in free coffee/tea all day, a hearty breakfast of nice crusty bread, ham and cheese, butter and marmalade, plus fast free internet, and the place was a bargain. I knew right away it would be hard to leave.

... it is a place where you can get a cheap meal of fresh seafood at the mercado (market) while being serenaded by a man and his guitar; eat pizza topped with seriously yummy curry chicken; or go for the most popular Chilean snack, the completo, a fluffy toasted hotdog bun stuffed with a long thin viennese sausage, sauerkraut (not too sour, just the way i like it), fresh chopped tomatoes, guacamole and mayonnaise... mmm... mmm... MMM! Order a completo gigante (foot-long), and you´ve got yourself a meal. Plus there is salsa ahi (hot sauce) everywhere! After going through weeks of spice withdrawal in Argentina, we put it on everything!

... it is a place where you can spend an evening at a restaurant/nightclub called Cinzano, an institution packed with locals, old and young, who are there to be entertained by the stylings of old men dressed up in tuxedos; drink piscos (like vodka, but made from grapes); and dance and sing national tunes at the top of their lungs.

... it is a place where you find the coolest artesenal stuff. Ever since we left for our travels, Erik had been searching high and low for a ring. In Valparaiso, we came across a guy who makes jewelry out of recycled flatwear.... ha! Who woulda thunk?? After choosing one out for Erik, of course I had to have one too! It´s only fair, right?

... and finally, it is a place where the street dogs act as cicerones (city guides)... i´m not kidding! As soon as you say hello to one of them, he/she will follow you around and show you the way to whatever sight you ask them to... seriously! However, it seems there are invisible borders they cannot cross. When one reaches a border, another one takes his place. We had one chaperone us to a very cool, ex-prison, which had been turned into a cultural center filled with wonderful art. He waited for us as we walked around, then escorted us back home. Never asked for anything in return, but we thought he deserved an empanada for his troubles. Afterwards, he thanked us with his eyes, and was on his way...

What´s not to love?

Erik's entry:
Yes, definitely one of my favorite places as well. "valparaiso" is short for "valley of paradise," and it's not a bad name. It's beautiful and gritty at the same time - a bit as I'd imagine San Francisco in the ´30´s. Steep hills studded with brightly-colored houses fan down into a picturesque bay. But unlike SF, the houses are dilapidated, often built of corrugated tin, and the bay is the main working port of Chile. Breathtaking and just a little edgy at the same time - a perfect mix.
The people were very nice as well, not really caring one way or the other that we were tourists or that our spanish was sub-par. They just enjoyed meeting people and were happy to help out if you were lost or needed advice.
We spent most of our time walking up and down the hills in search of nothing in particular, but always finding something beautiful and interesting around most corners - a playground made of brightly-painted used tires, a small park done up entirely in mosaic tiles, or just some very imaginative graffiti on a building wall. There are tiny, winding passageways and staircases everywhere, most of them constructed by the inhabitants themselves. We spent about ten days in this enchanting port town, and felt that we'd barely scratched the surface. Our rather extensive photo gallery for Valpo attests to its facinating, photogenic nature:
http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/ValparaisoChile#

Uspa-what-ah? (Uspallata)

Erik's entry:

Uspallata (oos-pai-shah-tah). Nope, I'd never heard of it, either, but apparently it's where they filmed "7 years in Tibet." I'm not that weird kind of film nut who seeks out shooting locales, and I've never even seen the film, but the fact that the terrain is so varied and beautiful that one might mistake it for Tibet was enough to sell me on a short sojourn there. Besides, it was on the way to Chile, where we were heading anyway.

Unfortunately, our timing killed us again. It was prime winter holiday, and Uspallata is a prime skiing location. There was not a cheap hotel room to be had in town. Luckily, just out of town was an affordable and very clean hostel. Not the "partying hippie backpacker" type of hostel, but one filled with families trying to make a skiing vacation affordable. It was comfortable, on beautiful grounds with a goose/duck pond in the middle, and the Andes dominating the background on one side, and the "cordillera" (foothills, but don't tell them that, they're huge) on the other. It was really an idealic setting, except for that walk into town. Only 15 minutes, but it was COLD and we had to walk along the major international thoroughfare leading to Chile, so we had huge trucks and buses wooshing past us all the time, in deafening rushes of noise, wind and dust. We tried not to walk into town too often!

Despite the temptation to hit the slopes, though, I opted against it, as my knee has been iffy since the Moskitia, and our budget was stretched thin in Argentina as it was. Instead we just hung around the next day, taking in the spectacular scenery. Besides we were very eager to get to Chile, and finally get a little variation in our diet (oh, yeah, and meet new people, see a new country, all that stuff...). Chile has seafood, and Talor loves seafood.

The trip across the Andes into Chile was the most beautiful bus ride I'd ever been on. In the course of a few hours, you see desert, multi-red-hued foothills, dramatic cliffs, snow-topped, jagged peaks, ski slopes etc. On the Chilean side as you descend, the ski slopes give way to hills draped in vineyards and valleys green with produce. It was really an amazing ride, except for the 2+ hours we had to spend in customs. Line after line after line. We were a bit anxious going through customs as well, as we'd heard that there was a new $131 "reciprocity tax" for Americans entering Chile. (Reciprocal, as they only instituted it in response to the US charging that for Chileans entering our country.) We really didn't have $262 to just throw away, but we heard a rumor that they only enforced it at the airport, not at road frontiers. So we were biting our nails a little as we handed over our passports, but not only did they not charge us the huge fee, they didn't charge us anything at all - the first time in all our travels we'd been allowed into a country for free. Woohoo! They did make us eat our bananas before we crossed the border, though. Fair enough...

Photos of Uspallata and the Andes passage: http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/Uspallata

Circus in San Rafael

Erik´s entry:
We'd heard from a few locals we'd met along the way that San Rafael was a very nice place to visit. It was only a couple of hours further along the highway from Tunuyan, and our guidebook mentioned it as a town with more bikes than cars, so we thought we'd give it try. What we found wasn´t amazing (and there were plenty of cars), but we did have a nice time there. San Rafael is a bit like a smaller, rougher Mendoza. It is near to skiing and some national parks, so quite popular with national tourists. As it was still winter vacation time, the town was quite busy. Upon arrival at the bus station, the local tourist information center recommended that for economical lodging, we couldn't do better than some mini-apartments, just south of the town center. We agreed to have a look, and the owner, Ricardo, actually came and picked us up at the station. What we found was small, cramped and not-quite-clean, but it was fairly affordable, and the decor so outlandishly '70´s (velvet paintings, plush headboards and drawers, etc.), that we decided we could do worse, and it was likely only for a few days.

The following day we walked around town, looked at few other options for lodging, and generally got the lay of the land. We considered taking a tour in the national parks or a trip up to the slopes, but what we saw in the brochures wasn't amazing enough to spend a lot of money, and the trips were expensive. As for night life, all the bars we found were empty, until we again checked into the casino - jam packed full! Instead of taking a pricey tour or losing money at the tables, though, we hunkered in and did what any self-respecting, mature adults would do: we hit a chinese all-you-can-eat buffet, went to the circus and saw a hollywood blockbuster dubbed in Spanish.

The buffet was at the suggestion of Ricardo and his wife, who were very, very nice, but as we've said, with eccentric taste. The food was pretty mediocre, but not too pricey. Talor was happy to be eating anything other than steak, pasta or pizza (the Argentine staples), and I dug into the full parilla (BBQ meats of all kinds). All in all, we got our money's worth from the experience.

The circus the next day was fun. I'd seen the tent set up on the edge of town as we'd come in on the bus. With not much else to do, I borrowed one of Ricardo's bikes, which was too small for me and had no functioning brakes, and peddled trepiditiously out there to find out show times, prices, etc. Later that day we went out there to see the show. There happened to be another bodega (vineyard, not corner store) on the way, so we stopped in to take the tour and taste the offerings and get in the right mood for the circus. The show itself ended up being quite fun. Calling themselves "Circus Evolution," they seemed to be aspiring to be a sort of low-rent Cirque du Soleil, with fancy costumes, dance mixed in with circus acts, and lots of fancy lights and whimsy. It really could have been much, much worse. We did enjoy ourselves and the kids in the audience loved it. There was the typical juggling, balancing, trampolines, and a few too many flexible ladies dangling from various swinging objects (rings, curtains, ropes, etc.) There was even the "sphere of death" - the huge ball with motorcyclists driving around inside. We really had fun. So much so that on the way home, we decided not to be responsible and go to home to pack (we were leaving the next day), we decided to go eat hot dogs (called "super panchos" here), and see "Hancock" dubbed in Spanish. We understood very little of the dialogue, but with a film like that, who needs to? Again, it was fun, and the hot dogs were actually quite good, with toppings like mushroom, corn, hot sauce, etc. yum. With warmer weather we probably would have spent a bit more time to see the parks, etc., but we enjoyed our couple of days in San Rafael. Next stop - Uspallata, at the base of the Andes.

Photos from San Rafael: http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/SanRafael

Why Tunuyan?

Talor: Why? Because it was a dot on the map in our guidebook, but we couldn´t find a word about the place anywhere. After reading through our Lonely Planet Argentina, we weren´t really feeling terribly excited about any of the places we read about so we decided to create our own excitement by being adventurous...

Just over an hour by bus from Mendoza, Tunuyan is just a quiet little town with nothing going on. When we visited the tourist kiosk, the only thing they could suggest to us was to take a taxi about 40km away to Manzano Historico, "Historical Apple Tree" where we could ride horses and pick apples... ummm, nah. Didn´t really appeal to us. What did appeal to us was that it was peaceful, the air was clean, and we were forced to do nothing... wow, what a relief! So that is exactly what we did... felt really good.

We pampered ourselves with deluxe accommodations at Hotel Tunuyan and had a king-size bed! Although it sagged alot (think it´s seen better days), it was our first since leaving home. We also found a couple of great places to eat... a diner next to the gas station, perpetually packed with locals at lunchtime, served up Spanish home-cooking in large portions. And, then there was the super-divey cafe by the bus terminal that had the cheapest, down-and-dirty, tastiest grub we´d had in (dare I say?) all of Argentina! Nothing but class for us!

In the evenings, we wandered out looking for signs of life, but found none... hmmm... where is everybody? Was it that it was early in the week? Are folks in Tunuyan just not the going-out types? Maybe a little of both, but then, we peeked into the casino, and found where they were all hiding... it was the happening-est place in town!

A few days later, we were ready to move on, but were glad we stopped in...

To see more photos... http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/Tunuyan

Mendoza - good people, bad timing.

Erik´s entry: The overnight bus from Rosario to Mendoza was painless, once we finally succeeded in actually getting on the bus. (See Rosario entry for more about that.) All the long-haul buses are equiped with "cama" (bed) or "semi-cama" (almost a bed) seats. We had the cheaper - but still pricey - semi-cama seats and we both were able to sleep a decent amount during the 12 hour ride. Pulling into the Mendoza terminal, we could see the surrounding desert framed by the snowy Andes mountains, which made for quite a dramatic arrival.

We were able to check our packs at the station, and so could relax and take our time as we sought out our lodgings. Good thing, too, as Mendoza is pricey, and we'd timed our arrival perfectly to coincide with a major school holiday. Cheap hotels were full, and prices were all high-season rates. We spent the better part of the entire day going from hostel, to hotel, to hospedaje. Everything was either full or too expensive. Mid-afternoon we decided to take a break and get something to eat. We found a tiny, divey cafe called "Flako's" ("Slim's"), with a cheap Menu del Dia, and sat down to a great, simple meal of Argentine pot roast. Delicious, filling, and affordable - what a combo. While we were eating, a man sitting near us asked us where we were from. His name was Jorge, and it turns out he'd spent several years working in New Jersey, so we chatted for a while. As he paid his check, he gave us his phone number in case we'd like to meet up another time. He also gave us a tip on a hostel near the bus station, where we ended up staying for the first night. It was absolutely tiny, with bunk beds and pretty much nothing else (including floor space), but it was affordable, so we took it for one night. It actually reminded me a little of the sleeper cars on the trains in Vietnam. (Photo makes it look more spacious than it was.)

The next morning we moved to another hostel, and that was to set a trend. In five days, we slept in 5 different rooms in 3 different hostels. It's not that we're so insanely picky, but the places were busy, and we'd always get the crappy room to start, either with a broken bed, or that adjoined the common room where people were partying and playing music until 4am.

We finally settled into a room in Hostal Central Parque, which seemed a nice, small, quiet hostel. That was on our 4th day, a Thursday. We woke up the next morning, and the breakfast table was jammed full of people. Where had they all come from? Where were they all staying? Turns out the place was bigger than it seemed, with secret little dorm rooms everywhere, and the place had filled up for the holiday weekend. We even had a famous alternative rock band staying in one of the rooms. Everyone pointed out how lucky we all were because they played free concerts for us in the evening, which was nice, but the entire weekend was very crowded and very noisy.

Luckily, Mendoza is the epicenter of Argentine wine, which helped take the edge off the noise and crowding. 70% of Argentina's wine is made in Mendoza county. We went out one chilly, sunny day to a central spot in vineyard country and did a little tasting tour. It´s a little too far to walk to these places, but not worth it to rent a car, so most people rent bikes. We'd been meaning to work on Talor's pedaling skills - she's not biked since childhood, and despite the generally-held wisdom, it's not just like riding a bike - so we rented a bicycle built for two and hit the road. Or the road hit us, is a better way of putting it. Riding a two person bike is difficult, and you can't simply stop pedaling to cushion yourself agains bumps/dips in the road, both of which there were in abundance. So with aching legs and bruised butts, we made our way to a few wineries. We took at tour at one of the oldest wineries in Mendoza, San Felipe, which also has a museum attached with loads and loads of centuries-old equipment, which was interesting. The free wine wasn't bad, either. The high points of the day, though, were the delicious, and deliciously cheap, empanadas we found at a tiny bodega along the way, as well as Mr. Hugo, the lovely man who rented us our bike and made us sit down and drink more wine with him and his dog once we 'd finished our tour. He reminded us both of our friend Gerry, and we kicked ourselves for not getting a photo of him.

Just a quick side note on my use of the term "bodega" here, which in New Yorker parlance, is a corner store. In Argentina, a bodega is a winery. In this case I was referring to the corner store, not the winery, despite our being in wine country. (Confused yet?) All throughout Central and South America, we've found different terms in each country for a convenience store, none of which is "bodega", which literally means "store room." In Mexico, they were "tiendas", but tiendas are clothing shops in most other countries. In Honduras and Nicaragua, they are referred to as "pulperias." In Argentina, they are called "almacens", though also referred to as anything from "kiosko" to "mercado", "mini-mercado", "super-mercado", "super-mini-mercado" (no kidding). Anything except "bodega." Oh, and don´t try asking for drugs at the "drugstores" either because all you´ll find is snacks and groceries.

We'd had such a nice meal at Flako´s the first day, that we continued to go back and lunch there nearly every day, often twice a day. Everything else we found in Mendoza was fairly pricey, fancy and touristy. Flako´s never disappointed, and helped us to stay in budget as well. We'd hoped to run into Jorge again there, but finally decided to call him. He agreed to meet us for a drink and drove us around the city, giving us a quick tour, before taking us to his sports club for a nice bottle of wine and picada (meat, cheese and olive snack tray.) He had little time, as he was very busy at work, but he drove us back home, and we made him promise to let us take him out next time. What a nice man! Everyone we'd met in Argentina had been friendly, but Jorge's hospitality was almost overwhelming.

We managed to return the favor a few nights later. Jorge again picked us up in his car, accompanied by his wife, Susana. We'd insisted on picking up the bill this time, and so Jorge was sly and took us to the fancy Mendoza mall, where there was a cheap but cheerful italian restaurant - he was gracious enough to have chosen a spot where we could treat them, but which wouldn't put too much of a dent in our budget as well. They are a wonderful couple, and we hope to meet them again sometime, perhaps in New York. Thank you, Jorge!

One nice thing about the cramped quarters at the hostel, was that we were forced to meet people. One morning we commented on a young boy's new bright-0range nike soccer shoes, which he kept shining throughout breakfast. His name was Martin, and he was very, very proud of his new shoes. We ended up spending a good deal of time with Martin, his sister Belen, and his parents, Patty and Marco. They were from Chile and vacationing in Mendoza. From what I could understand in my bad Spanish (I'm truly embarrassed that I still struggle to understand after 6 months in Spanish-speaking countries), they'd decided to vacation in Mendoza because that was the nearest place that Martin could buy his fancy footwear! It's always interesting to hear how people choose to travel where they do. We spent one very fun night drinking wine with Patty and Marco while being entertained by Martin and Belen. It was a very fun evening, and Patti and Marco were SO patient with our poor Spanish skills. Evenings such as that that are exactly how we'll learn to speak better. We were leaving Mendoza the next day, but we exchanged emails, and hope to meet up in Santiago, Chile. As has nearly always been the case in our travels, it's the people we remember, not the sites. Thus we tend to avoid the speedy sight-seeing type of travel experience.

Talor: Highlights for me included a small aquarium, where we saw a kooky collection of exotic fish, including this crazy looking albino with no eyes. Pushed and shoved the annoying kids out of the way so I can have a closer look, and when I did, it gave me the creeps, but I couldn´t stop staring! Then great sadness came when we went into another room and found a giant sea turtle swimming in a not too giant fish bowl. After that we decided to forgo checking out the snake museum across the street, where we heard they house the snakes in equally tight quarters.

After eating in the same cafe every single day for lunch, we were at a loss on Sunday because... (gulp!) Flako´s was closed! In fact lots of places were closed, except for the touristy strips, which we swore we wouldn´t go to. We wandered around aimlessly searching for food, and a couple of hours later, we were almost at that desperate point, when things could have come to blows (weak blows since we had no food in us...) when we spotted a very cute, very tiny Middle Eastern restaurant that was (could it be?) very open. Ordered a tapas-type tasting platter, and dove in. Although it all looked like the Middle Eastern food we know and love, somehow the flavors were a bit different. In the end, we agreed it wasn´t the best we´d ever had, but put together a nice, relaxing, homey ambience with a very warm and patient waiter, the fact that we were starving, and we were eating non-Argentinian food for a change, added up to all smiles in the end.

And finally, but not lastly, my most favorite moment? The swing at the Parque O´Higgins... wheeee! OK, all is well in the world again...

More photos from Mendoza: http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/Mendoza

Restless in Rosario

Erik's entry: Continuing our rollercoaster travels from one extreme to another, we next opted on Rosario, the 2nd largest city in Argentina. According to our guide book, it boasted a beautiful riverfront, great food and night life, and some interesting cultural diversions (museums, etc.) Upon nearing the city, our bus entered into a fog bank that was to last for several days. The weather matched our opinion of the big, noisy city: grey, cold and boring.

We spent the better part of the first day lugging our packs around looking for affordable lodging. Every place we found that we could afford had some major drawback - no windows, no heating, dirty, or uncomfortable bed, etc. Finally, after 4-5 hours of searching, as we were about to give up and go back to one of the windowless rooms we´d seen, we found an old, run-down, but charismatic hotel, Hotel Romijor. It didn´t have heating, but the room was enormous, and the bathroom ridiculously large - about 8 large strides from one end to the other, and with a large, claw-footed bathtub to boot! It even had its own private balcony next to the retro neon hotel sign. The staff were very welcoming and friendly, and as we´d find out later, breakfast included the best espresso coffee we´d found in Argentina thus far. We were a little cold, but happy.

The next day was foggy and cold again, but we walked all over town, including the riverfront, which, contrary to the guidebook, was ugly, dirty and run down. So far we were none too impressed with Rosario. We did manage to find a small, divey neighborhood lunch place, with delicious, simple dishes (steaks, pastas, arroz con pollo, etc.) It was cheap and very cheerful, and brightened our moods. The city still seemed grey and boring, but at least we were eating well. After lunch we wandered back down to river, and up to Rosario's main landmark, a huge edifice dedicated to the national flag. The outline of it is that of a ship, as Rosario is a port town, and the front boasts a huge phallic tower, with the back of the ship dominated by a greek-collumned mausoleum to the unknown soldier. We took a ride to the top of the tower and were underwhelmed by the dull grey vistas, though the monument itself was quite impressive. (and we do like Argentina´s flag as well...) In fact, the monument, despite being a bit overbearingly partritoic, was more impressive than most things we saw in Buenos Aires.

It was about this point in our Argentinian explorations that we were fighting off regret at not having stayed in Central America and spent some time in Panama. It was warm, cheap, and mostly cheerful there. While the Argentine people had been nothing but kind to us, the country was (comparatively) very expensive - lodging, eating and traveling all cost about 3 times more than we'd been led to believe, partly due to the overabundance of tourists visiting Argentina these days, and partly due to the huge inflation the country is suffering from. It was also very cold, and as it turned out, both difficult and expensive to get into other countries in South America. When you add in the fact that we'd paid a princely sum to fly down there (rather than a $28 bus ride ride to Panama from Nicaragua), we had plenty to feel down about. But regret is not a healthy thing, and we chose to simply make good note of the misstep for future travel reference, and try to get the most out of our time in Argentina.

The next night we did just that. Talor had heard about a small, local "peña", or folk music club, where locals go to hear traditional tunes from all over the country. True to the Argentine rhythm, the place didn´t even open until 11pm, and we were the only ones in the place when we arrived. Once we´d been served our bottle of wine, the two musicians on stage and started playing. It was a very simple set up - a guitar player and a drummer-singer, but they were very good. I had thought at first that this was a club set up for the tourist trade, but there really is very little international tourist traffic there, especially during winter, and we were happy when about 1am, groups of locals began coming in and filling up the small room. The first to arrive were a group of 5 women, who sat at the table just behind us. Between songs, they would ask us questions about where we were from, what were doing in Rosario, etc., and soon they asked us to join them. They were great fun to hang out with. They loved the folk music, and would let us know which region each song was from, as well as where they were each from and which areas were the best to visit (usually the same place they were from!) After several bottles of wine (taken with a splash of soda from a soda siphon on the table), we were all having a great time. As the evening progressed, more musicians joined the ensemble, including a vivacious older woman who (I believe) ran the club. She was dressed in a silk suit and sang with an amazing, gravelly voice. At one point, to my great embarrassement, she spent an entire song serenading me. By about 3am, the place was really getting going, and all the tables were taken with people standing near the back. Unfortunately, we'd not yet adapted to Argentine time (well, we never actually did), and having consumed several bottles of wine, we said goodbye to our new friends and stumbled home, which was thankfully only a few blocks away.

The next day we woke up feeling none too well, and after several of days of cold weather, and a late evening of too much wine, I started coming down with a cold. I wouldn't have cared much, except that we'd decided to move on that day, and had an overnight bus that evening to Mendoza. I'd really wanted to go north up to the Iguazu waterfalls, but given that we had only about 10 days left in Argentina, we decided that we should relax a little, and get to know a couple of places well, rather than making a mad, sight-seeing dash across a very large country, and end up feeling frustrated and tired. We spent our last day in Rosario (which finally turned out to be a bright, sunny, warm day), walking around, trying to see museums which were mostly closed for renovation. So much for what guide books will tell you! At this point in our travels, we've finally learned to use them only as rough indicators, and sometimes more as guides for what to avoid rather than what to see.

Perhaps the funniest and scariest moment of our time in Rosario came as we were killing time waiting for our bus. We had dinner in a none-too-special restaurant across the street from the bus station. We had about 2 hours to kill, so we ate slowly, studied spanish, etc. I'd thought the bus was at 8pm, but Talor, who had the tickets, assured me that it was 8:30pm. A little before 8 we decided we saunter over to the station and find out which gate the bus was leaving from. Inside the station, we looked on the big board, but it didn't list our bus. The ticket agent had said that it would leave from one of 3 gates, so we went there, but there were no buses going to Mendoza. Talor pulled out the tickets to recheck the gate numbers, and saw to both our surprise that the bus was indeed at 8pm, and it was now 8:10 or so. Oops! We ran back to the ticket agent, who was at a loss as to what to do. There were no more buses to Mendoza that night. He then disappeared in the back for several minutes. When he reappeared, he said blabbered something very quickly in Spanish that we didn't understand and shoved us gently out towards the taxi stand. He spoke to a taxi driver and put us in the cab. Finally we understood that he'd radioed the bus, which was now waiting for us on the outskirts of town. He told the cabbie to hurry, which he did. About 10 minutes later we squealed around a corner and there was our bus, idling by the curb, patiently waiting for us. Unbelievable! With much humility we thanked the driver and fellow passengers as we got on and took our places in our plush semi-cama (half bed) seats for the over night trip to Mendoza.

Talor: Just a few curiosities...

1. The local lottery places were all run by the Chinese... why? Chinese mafia? Perhaps...

2. Rather than washing car windows on street intersections, people juggle for change. Probably about the same amount of work, but far more entertaining, don´t you think?

3. On Friday, it was the last day of school before winter break. Students from all over the city gathered at the flag monument to celebrate with loud singing, dancing, marching, fireworks, and best of all, tearing up pages and pages of school notes and homework and scattering the bits and pieces all over!

Our photos for Rosario: http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/Rosario

In Gaucho Country

Talor: We seem to be doing things in extremes... after being overstimulated and overwhelmed with too much to do and see in BA, we headed to a more calm and peaceful environment in San Antonio de Areco. After a short 2-hour bus ride, we went from a population of 13 million to approximately 20,000. There are far more bicycles than cars here. At first glance, we were seriously underwhelmed... the town appeared more like any typical suburb in the US, but then we started noticing men wearing berets, vests, boots, and then it sunk in... we´re in gaucho country!

On our first day, we were warmly welcomed by a gang of roaming, coughing street dogs... very friendly, but they followed us relentlessly, and even waited outside while we had coffee in a cafe! The dogs were telling of the folks as well... very friendly, with everyone saying, ¨Hola!¨ wherever we went.

Later in the evening, we stopped in at a cafe/bar/resto on the corner of the central plaza, called Esquina de Merti, which had lots of character and a great collection of antiques... cash register, light fixtures, beer pull, everywhere. The decor was typical of most of the cafes, bars and restaurants in town. In fact, we visited a museum the next day and found pretty much the same things, just more of them, including an antique airplane. Outside of the center of town were ranches with gauchos on horseback and herds of lambs, cows, horses, etc.

As with most small towns, as cute and quaint as they are, there isn´t much to do. So we planned on a couple days of R&R then move on. Little did we know that the following day was one of the most important holidays in Argentina... their Independence Day! We had no choice but to stay another day because there were no buses running. Well it was a good thing cause it turned into a lovely day... the sun was shining, and it was gorgeous out. We went to one of the ranches where there was an all-day celebration going on, somewhat like a county fair, with gaucho competitions, a bbq and vendors selling knicknacks of gaucho gear and mate cups. There were tons of people, and everyone was really enjoying themselves.

Later that evening, we peeked into a neighborhood bar, and I absolutely fell in love with the cutest little girl who had a giant plate of sandwiches in front of her. We settled into an evening of wine and chitchat with very friendly locals. Jorge, a leather artesan, invited us to coffee the next morning at his house, and we kicked ourselves for having already bought tickets for an early morning bus to Rosario... arrrgh!

If you´d like to see more photos... http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/SanAntonioDeAreco

Buenos in Buenos Aires

Erik´s entry:
So our 10 days in Buenos Aires have turned into 17. A week into our stay, we realized we hadn´t seen, done or eaten all that we wanted to, and were able to extend our apartment lease for an extra week, so we´re still here, though leaving tomorrow.

The day of our arrival it was rainy and very cold in the city. "Very cold" is a subjective description. Compared to New York City in winter, this was nothing - 55 degrees and light rain. After 6 months in Central America, though, we were cold. We´d packed only a few warm clothes, just enough to ensure that we wouldn´t die of hypothermia. There would be no wardrobe changes for us during our stay, and our neighbors must have wondered about us, as we wore exactly the same outfits each day.

The first day, after a much-needed nap, we headed out to wander around our neighborhood - the San Telmo district, which is an artsy and antiquarian neighborhood, known for sunday antique fairs, tango, street performers and old, homey cafes. I was amazed at how much the city´s streets, architecture and nicely-dressed, European-looking populace reminded me of Paris, and in my sleepy state, I was constantly surprised when people would speak in Spanish (with an odd Italian lilt) rather than French.

First on our list was food, and seeing as Argentina is known for the best beef in the world, we wandered towards Desnivel, a famous old-school parilla, or Argentine steak house, where everything is grilled over live coals at the entrance to the restaurant.

Apparently inflation is high in Argentina, and the days of the $5 steak blowout dinner are gone. Still, we paid about$9 for a big, juicy steak, and $2 for a half liter of decent house wine. Talor went for the chorizo and morcilla (blood sausage) which went for just over a dollar each. It was very good, but the place seemed to have succumbed to its own popularity a bit, as the place was packed, the prices were much higher than we´d been told and the service was hurried and impersonal. Still, I was very, very happy eating a steak which didn´t require a chain saw to cut, and to be drinking wine for the first time in so long.

Argentina had a huge influx of Italian immigrants around the turn of the century, and you can see and even hear their influence everywhere. Often I swear that I hear people speaking Italian to each other, but upon listening more carefully, I hear that it´s Spanish with a strong Italian lilt. Pizza and pasta is everywhere, and very good. Very different from US pizza, but absolutely delicious. I imagine that the Italians helped perfect the wine-making here as well, and you can still buy a decent bottle of Malbec for $2-$3.

The next day we wandered down towards the city center, where many of the colonial houses and civic museums, etc. are. We needed some sort of guide to Argentina, so we headed up the pedestrian shopping mall street, Calle Florida. It was awful, packed with tourists, shoppers, vendors, and those preying upon them (as we would soon find out.) We looked in a few bookstores, but only found only extremely pricey English guide books, and not the ones we liked. Outside of one bookstore, I stopped to take off my fleece, as the day was warming up. I put down my pack to take it off, and while pulling it over my head, a couple came up and asked Talor where Calle Florida was (an odd question, as we were on Calle Florida.) She told them as much, and when I went to put my fleece in my bag, the bag was gone. I immediately ran after the couple, but they didn´t have it. Then I saw Talor run into a small indoor mall, so I ran after her and saw a man slinking away, stuffing my bag into his. He heard us approaching and dropped the bag and ran off. So I recovered the backpack, but felt incredibly stupid - we'd been duped by one of the oldest tricks in the book, but at least we learned the easy way, and I never, ever set my bag down, nor carry any valuables in it. I found out later that the bookstore security guide had tipped off Talor about where the thief had gone by motioning with his eyes. Afterwards we both wondered why he hadn´t been a bit more proactive about the whole thing, if he´d see it happen?

A more pleasant surprise in the city was the dog population. Dogs are everywhere, but as opposed to the skin-and-bones, dirty street dogs we were used to from Central America, these were healthy (well, honestly fat), clean, pampered dogs. Being winter, they all wore stylish canine sweaters and their owners doted over them. We even witnessed one owner apologizing profusely to his dog for having pet another dog. (The dog was visibly jealous by the owner´s philandering.)

One afternoon we took a stroll into the La Boca neighborhood, where most of the immigrants settled to work the docks. The neighborhood is known for it´s brightly painted houses, a tradition from the times when the dockworkers would take the leftovers from painting the boats and paint their houses with them. At the entrance to La Boca, they have constructed a whimsical mini-La Boca with figurines of dockworkers, tango dancers, prostitutes and musicians posing in fake windows, all painted in the bright La Boca style. The neighborhood is still very workingclass, and we were warn by several locals not to wander into certain areas on our own, as they´re not at all safe. Futbol rules supreme here, and La Boca is home to Argentina´s most popular club team, Boca Juniors, as well as the birthplace of their fallen idol, Maradona.

After a few days, we discovered a wonderful service, "Cicerones", which matches up tourists with locals who act as private city guides. There is no fee for the service, though they do request donations to keep the service running. Our cicerone was Alberto, a 68 year old retired engineer who has lived his entire life in Buenos Aires. Alberto spoke almost no English, so our time with him was excellent practice for our rusty Spanish, which we´d harldy used on Corn Island. Alberto was a wonderful guide, showing us the little-seen inner workings of the city. We had to really struggle to understand him, but he was very patient, and happy to speak slower, or rephrase his sentences to help us follow along. We met with Alberto 3 times for several hours, and were always impressed by his generosity and energy. We were quite sad after our last meeting when we said goodbye for the last time.

Another day we explored BA´s China Town - all three short blocks of it. We did manage to find some pretty authentic noodles there in a dingy little cafe where we were the only non-chinese eating. We also found a very good, and very pricey Korean restaurant near the theater district, which made Talor very happy.

By far the oddest place we visited in Buenos Aires was Tierra Santa ("Holy Land"), a religious theme park near the airport. For those of you who know the Simpsons, this place is Ned Flanders' PraiseLand come to life. There are animatronic reenactments of the manger, the last supper, even creation! To top it all off, literally, there is a 50 foot Jesus resurected which rises out of the mount and turns, blessing everyone and raising it´s eyes and palms up towards god, all to the blaring music of Handel´s Messiah. There is even a bible-knowledge quiz show, where youngsters who don´t know their bible trivia are dragged away to prison by Roman centurians.

We didn´t take in any of the touristy tango shows, but we did go to one of the informal "milongas", which are clubs open to the public where tango rules supreme. I´d thought that Tango was something kept alive just for the tourists, but that´s not at all the case. It´s much loved by young and old, and the milongas are set up to benefit the locals, not the tourists. Talor loved the dancing. I liked the wine.

After a couple of weeks, we´ve finally gotten our fill of Buenos Aires, for now. The food is quite good, but there´s not a huge amount of variety. After yearning for a more cosmopolitan environement, we´re ready to head back out into the country and explore the smaller villages and parks of Argentina, so we leave tomorrow for San Antonio de Areco, which is the heart of Gaucho country, about 2 hours from the capital.

Talor: Be careful of what you wish for...

After spending 5 months in small towns and villages, I was really needing to go somewhere cooler, somewhere where I wasn´t constantly getting bit by mosquitoes, ants, can´t-see-ems, etc. Although I thoroughly enjoyed myself on the Corns, I started to crave different food options and things to do and see... I was really needing a big city for awhile. Well, talk about extremes... Buenos Aires is big... actually, it´s HUGE! I thought having lived in NYC for most of my life, I would feel comfortable in a big city, but I was overwhelmed! And it´s cold! And impersonal! We went from the friendliest place in the world to a place where everybody´s in a hurry to get somewhere. A simple smile and a hello would guarantee a conversation on the Corns. Here, people don´t make eye contact. Don´t get me wrong, they´re not unfriendly, just busy.... sound familiar? Yup, it reminds me of home...

We were lucky enough to snag a cute little studio apartment in the neighborhood of San Telmo. It´s one of the oldest neighborhoods in Argentina with lots of character, cool places to go for coffee, wine, or food, tango and antique shops everywhere. Some of the shopping "malls" are renovated mansions. Our apartment reminds me of our apartment in New York. It´s tiny, but has a sleeping loft and a really nice bathroom. The entire time we have been travelling, I think we saw a bathtub twice... both in expensive hotels we couldn´t afford. Here there´s not only a bathtub, but a jacuzzi! What LU-XU-RY! Plus the rent is cheaper than the cheapest hostals with shared baths. And of course having a kitchenette means we can cook meals at home. Nothing fancy because it´s not equipped for that, but it was nice to make simple meals of pasta, fish and even a curry with tons of veggies... yum!

And you know it´s always all about the food for me... first we hit a parilla to sample their world-famous steaks, mocillas (blood sausage) and chorizos (spicy Spanish sausage). All was good. There isn´t much street food in BA, but there are bakeries everywhere where you can get tasty empanadas (turnovers) filled with beef, chicken, veggies or even sweets. They make for really good snacks. Also at the bakeries are all sorts of sandwiches and prepared foods like tortas (kinda like quiches). Got all excited to find there is a Chinatown here... well, it was more like a Chinablock, but I was able to get my noodle-fix at the diviest noodle shop. Then we went in search of Korean food. Found a fancy restaurant in the theater district and really didn´t know what to expect after our seriously bad Korean food in Antigua. It was pricey, but damned if it wasn´t good! So, got my kimchee-fix too... ahhh all´s well in the world again.

Then there is the parilla sandwich shop just a couple blocks away... it´s a tiny little hole-in-the-wall always packed with people wolfing down sandwiches with steak, sausages or chicken cooked on the bbq right there. One day, I went and got a sandwich for Erik to bring back while he was busy working on the photos at home. The choripan (sausage sandwich) was absolutely delicious! The next day, I passed by the sandwich shop, and from across the street saw the owner and waved at him. He called me over and immediate gave me a hug and a kiss like I was an old friend. We chatted for a minute and I promised to go back later for a sandwich. When E and I went back a couple of hours later, we got sandwiches and this time ate at the shop. It was great fun watching the goings-on, and chatting with them. The owner, Freddy even offered us some wine... did I say they weren´t friendly?

Having an apartment has been a nice luxury for us, and we were able to save money on rent and food, but it also has it´s drawbacks... we feel a bit isolated. We don´t have access to the instant social scene you would get staying at a hotel or a hostal. And it´s hard to meet people here. Once again, it´s not that people are not friendly, but with very few exceptions, bars here do not have bars... they´re set up as tables and portenos tend to go out in groups, and sit together. Plus, after 5 weeks of not practicing Spanish, I became shy to strike up a conversation because I couldn´t understand anything they said. Here, as everywhere, people speak Spanish differently, sounds almost like Italian, very lyrical. It´s been great meeting Alberto, our Cicerone, who was kind enough to take us on walking tours, and explain the culture and people of BA. He even gave us a memento he made himself of old coins mounted on a piece of wood. So sweet!

Erik keeps saying BA reminds him of Paris, but for me, there are so many similarities to New York... the pace of life, the variety of people, the skylines with tall buildings of glass, metal and concrete. There are fancy shops, restaurants, pharmacy chains, and plenty of homeless. Walking along Puerto Madero, I swear it was deja vu... I could have been walking in Battery Park City. But there are also differences, some major like the language spoken, and some subtle... like there are grocery stores on every corner, but unlike NY where Koreans own that market, here it´s the Chinese, but the produce inside the grocery stores and supermarkets are sold separately by natives. And all the dry cleaners are Japanese. Why?

Oh and Portenos love their dogs! These dogs are the fattest, most pampered I´ve seen since leaving NY. They all wear cute little sweaters and jackets, get hugged, kissed and carried. We saw Freddie (at the sandwich shop) cutting up a huge piece of steak to give to a dog that wasn´t even his. We even saw an owner petting another dog then begging his dog for forgiveness for petting another dog! Ha! And these dogs poop everywhere! There are no pooper scooper laws so we were constantly shouting ¨cuidado!¨(careful!) to eachother wherever we walked.

The schedule here is another thing we had to get used to. On the Corns, we would wake up between 5:00 and 6:00 in the morning, lunch around noon and eat dinner around 7:00ish before going to bed around 10:00, and that was considered late on the Islands. Here, restaurants don´t even open for dinner until 8:00, and the peak eating time is 10:00, ending around midnight when everyone goes out to bars, clubs, milongas, whatever, until the wee hours of the morning. We tried going out earlier, but bars and clubs are dead before midnight. So we tried taking naps and having coffee in the early evenings, but still struggled to stay up. But we did manage to get out a few times to a milonga, and a couple of joints in the hood.

We went from nothing to do to too much to do. It was overwhelming in the beginning. So we did what we normally do when we first arrive in a large city, just walked and walked and walked. Checked out neighborhoods, museums, milongas, bars, restaurants, coffee shops... whew, I´m exhausted. Now I´m looking forward to going to a smaller town, a slower pace, and hopefully, friendly locals...

The complete set of photos from Buenos Aires may be found on our Picasa pages:
http://picasaweb.google.com/erikandtalor/BuenosAiresArgentina
(Be warned that BA is a photogenic city, and there are a lot of photos.)