Well friends, here it is, my final postcard. My Argentine life is now three weeks behind me and I've picked up what I put down in January. And you know what? Everything feels normal.
It seems that I've always been chasing a dream to travel, and studying abroad gave me an opportunity to do so. It's funny how you can dream and anticipate something for so long that when it finally comes, it's over just as quickly. Landing back in the United States sent my new friends and I almost immediately back into the swing of the life we knew pre-Argentina. Visiting family and friends, beginning summer jobs and internships, and planning vacations quickly took over, leaving very few moments to swallow and savor the Argentine experience. But to be honest, I don't know how one can really digest such a trip as that in one setting, perhaps I never fully will.
Readjusting to the United States life has gone very smoothly. The strangest part has actually been getting back to eating dinner at 6 or 7 instead of 9 or 10. Of all the things! Being reunited with my family was sweet and all too short as I left for Nashville only a week and a half later. I am incredibly blessed to have the relationship that I do with my parents and brother, and although it seems I'm constantly bouncing from place to place, they are never far from my mind.
I will be spending this summer in Nashville; my final summer before being a college graduate. Tell me that's not crazy. I still feel like I should be packing my bags to head down to Grandpa's for a couple of weeks, but instead I'm currently sitting in a coffee shop waiting to have a meeting with my internship boss. I have two internships this summer, and I am currently searching far and wide to find a steady, almost full time job (currently the most frustrating part of being back).
The weeks following my return have been filled with catching up with friends, mixed in with a weekend at Bonnaroo and visiting Indiana's water park, Holiday World. Next week will be two of my roommates 21st birthdays, so that promises to be full of excitement and adventures as well. I missed Nashville a lot over this past semester so I'm absolutely thrilled to be here again.
The one thing I am nervous about is being "that" girl that talks about her study abroad experience all the time. But I don't want to not talk about it, so I am trying to find a balance between. I appreciate people asking me to tell them about my trip, but really, how much can I actually tell them? I was gone for five months and an hour long coffee date won't cover everything. I promise these stories will come out over time.
I am very sad to be closing this blog now; I have had a lot of fun writing it and exploring my own style. Thank you again, readers, for keeping up with my adventures and allowing me to share them with you. It has really meant a lot! Stay tuned though, I am considering starting a new blog to follow my Nashville adventures, but we'll see :)
Chau!
-Courtney
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Final Happenings
Well, in a matter of about 10 hours, I have jumped from the Southern Hemisphere to the Northern Hemisphere, bypassing fall and going the reverse direction to sweet summertime (after I finish one more paper, that is). Currently, I'm sitting in the Washington-Dulles airport, waiting on Obama to take me to breakfast....and for my flight to Raleigh in about three hours. And just like that, I'll be home.
But I know, I know, you want to hear about the last week or so in Buenos Aires before I get into the reflective mode.
I finally made it to Liquid, the bar my family talks about all the time- and now I wish I would have found it earlier! It actually had more of a club scene than a bar, and I was perfectly happy with that, especially when they played a Will Smith song. Yes, thats right friends, Will Smith. Also on the DJ's list was Shania Twain (I wasn't aware she made it to South America), The Beatles, a wide selection of 80s pop music, and eventually the DJ settled on popular Argentine music (which made sense as this was definitely not a tourist bar). Although Liquid may have appeared to be a little confused in its music selection, I'd prefer to say that it was original, and definitely one of my favorite bar/clubs in Buenos Aires. Oh, I was also given a couple dance lessons in traditional Argentine moves, which were once again unsuccessful.
On Friday, although I didn't know it then, we went over to Ila, David and Karin's for the last time. Sally and Stephanie had gone to an asado earlier that day and brought back a ton of leftover meat to share for dinner. It was really nice to just relax and enjoy one another's company without the noise of a party, like many of the times we go over there. On the way home, Stephanie and I, who were both craving an alfajore, stopped by a kiosk to satisfy that craving. I asked the guy for the best alfajore he had in stock, and he surely did not disappoint. So, in case anyone is wondering, Cachafaz is the best brand of alfajore out there- forget about Havanna (they're the same price anyway).
Saturday and Sunday were filled with family activities, and I wouldn't have had it any other way on my final weekend. Mary and I lounged around Saturday morning, drinking maté and chatting for a bit before I headed down for a final visit to the Recoleta market. I didn't stay gone for too long though, as I had been appointed chef for the evening. We were hosting another empanada party, and this time Nacho let me try my hand at his recipe. Apart from bawling my eyes out from cutting the onions, it is a pretty easy recipe to make and I am excited to share it with everyone :) I think in total, I cooked up about 120 empanadas.
May 25th is Argentina's Independence Day, so Mary had asked if everyone would wear an Argentine emblem to the party. Not very many actually did, but Stephanie actually showed up with a party hat with an Argentine flag. Major props go to her! A couple of Mary and Nacho's friends brought guitars, so as the night dragged on, the guests began singing, off-key with both guitar and voice- but that really didn't matter here, everyone was having a great time. Annnd eventually the guitar was passed to my hands, so I dusted off a few pieces to share. A melodious time was had by all!
On Sunday, Lean invited everyone over to his house for parilla style pizzas. He mentioned several times that he wanted me to see his house before I left, and I'm very glad I got the opportunity to do so. Lean lives a little bit outside of the greater Buenos Aires area, in what I think would be considered Chacarita. I was incredibly impressed by how neat, orderly, and very cleverly decorated his house was. It actually reminded me a lot of my grandpa's house in Arizona. His house was very spacious, although only two bedrooms, and was decorated with an indigenous theme. Scattered around the house were various percussion instruments from different countries, including a didgeridoo from Australia. The most impressive part was the terrace. After outside to the patio and up a tiny staircase, you emerged in to this incredible open-air space, complete with a parilla. The terrace was decorated with tons of plants, all potted in unique pots, such as an old cement block or a hubcap or basically anything that one might find in a junkyard or antique garage. Lean and his uncle constructed a bamboo roof that covered a part of the seating area. Really, this place was great, and I totally did not expect that from him!
Mary made homemade pizza dough and then adorned the pizzas to be placed on the parilla on the terrace. If that doesn't sound good to you, I don't know what would. Definitely some of the best pizza I've had in my life. The night was absolutely lovely, spent eating and talking with my family for one of the final moments. Beautiful.
The rest of the week was filled with checking last minute things off of my bucket list, oh, and taking my Spanish exam.
The park close to my school became the site for a tower of books display, inspired by the Tower of Babel and Buenos Aires' title of being the book capital of the world. The spiraling tower was built completely of books from all different countries, donated by the various embassies in Buenos Aires. As Mary told me, soon the city is going to start building a library filled with books from all languages. Very impressive.
I finally found a frozen yogurt place- better late than never, I suppose! But unfortunately, it is an affiliate of a Sweet CeCe's competitor, PinkBerry. In South America they go by PinkFrost, but they're little sneaky name changing ways didn't throw me off! It was a good experience, not self-serve, and they didn't have honey for a topping, but at least they have frozen yogurt!
I should be ashamed to say, that even though I lived in the neighborhood, it took me to my last week in Buenos Aires to visit the famous Recoleta Cemetery. This place is the final resting place to many of Argentina's elite, including former president Sarmiento, and Eva Perón. I wandered around for a good hour, but never actually found Eva's grave. The place was actually pretty eerie, and I don't understand the point of creating huge mausoleums for dead people. I'm sure they did great things, but really? I'm pretty sure that money could've been spent on a lot better things around the city. That being said, when my time comes, I would like to be cremated- and if anyone is up to it, I'd like my ashes to be scattered all over the world, to provide incentive for someone to travel. But enough of that talk.
Sally's parents were in town this week, and they were extremely nice to take me out to eat with them a couple of times. Following the advice of a traveler book about the top 10 best eats in Buenos Aires, we found ourselves in a small restaurant located within a grocery store. While it wasn't my choice cuisine, it was pretty impressive and had a bit of a Spanish flare (although it claimed to be authentic to Buenos Aires). Later in the week, to celebrate the end of classes, her parents took us to a very nice parilla. A couple of our plates were served with literally just a piece of meat on it, something you would never see in the United States. You would also probably never get such choice meat for such an incredible price in the States either.
I decided to play chef one more time for my host family this week, and cooked up a Mexican dish to share with them. They all know how much I love Mexican food, and I was very excited to share it. I found a new recipe for black bean burritos, which means I actually found black beans (something that is hard to come by in Buenos Aires)! I also whipped up some guacamole, which was eaten very quickly. Nacho did criticize me for having to look at a recipe for the dish- apparently I had him fooled that I was making something I make all the time. Therefore, he said I wasn't a real cook...but whatever. You gotta try new stuff sometimes! And I know he said it all out of teasing love haha.
CEA hosted a farewell lunch for us at Siga La Vaca, which is a very nice, all-you-can-eat parilla. After the meal, a couple of prize drawings were held for students that completed the end of year survey. Lucky me, I won a HardRock Buenos Aires t-shirt! Woo!
After lunch, Melanie and I took crossed another thing off of my bucket list by visiting the ecological reserve in Puerto Madero. Hidden behind the largest population of trees in the city was a peaceful pathway that led to the mouth of the Rio de la Plata. Bikers, runners, and causal walkers accompanied Melanie and I as we toured the park, but we definitely stuck out like sore thumbs; having come from our farewell lunch, we were fairly overdressed for this outdoor occasion.
I finally began packing Friday evening. It was a lot easier packing to go home than packing to come down to Buenos Aires simply because everything had to go back. I wish it were always that easy! I took great care in wrapping the wine bottles and other souvenirs, as we all know how great of care the airline people take with luggage!
My last evening in Buenos Aires was spent eating dinner with Mary and then going out one more time in Plaza Serrano with Sara and Melanie. We got a couple of drinks there, laughed at the odd sites (a party bus, followed by a bus with an entire band playing inside) and recapped on an incredible semester.
Loli and Lean took me to the airport around six on Saturday, which was so kind of them to do, and I'm so grateful for that. Although no tears actually fell, they did sit in the bottom of my eyes for a while.
And just like that, I got through security and immigration and shortly after, boarded my flight for the USofA. May surely came quickly.
I plan on writing one more update in a little bit to give a little more closure on my semester abroad. For those of you who have kept up with me, thank you. You've encouraged me to keep writing which has now become a great passion of mine. Thank you for your support, whether you realized it or not.
Thank you.
But I know, I know, you want to hear about the last week or so in Buenos Aires before I get into the reflective mode.
I finally made it to Liquid, the bar my family talks about all the time- and now I wish I would have found it earlier! It actually had more of a club scene than a bar, and I was perfectly happy with that, especially when they played a Will Smith song. Yes, thats right friends, Will Smith. Also on the DJ's list was Shania Twain (I wasn't aware she made it to South America), The Beatles, a wide selection of 80s pop music, and eventually the DJ settled on popular Argentine music (which made sense as this was definitely not a tourist bar). Although Liquid may have appeared to be a little confused in its music selection, I'd prefer to say that it was original, and definitely one of my favorite bar/clubs in Buenos Aires. Oh, I was also given a couple dance lessons in traditional Argentine moves, which were once again unsuccessful.
On Friday, although I didn't know it then, we went over to Ila, David and Karin's for the last time. Sally and Stephanie had gone to an asado earlier that day and brought back a ton of leftover meat to share for dinner. It was really nice to just relax and enjoy one another's company without the noise of a party, like many of the times we go over there. On the way home, Stephanie and I, who were both craving an alfajore, stopped by a kiosk to satisfy that craving. I asked the guy for the best alfajore he had in stock, and he surely did not disappoint. So, in case anyone is wondering, Cachafaz is the best brand of alfajore out there- forget about Havanna (they're the same price anyway).
Saturday and Sunday were filled with family activities, and I wouldn't have had it any other way on my final weekend. Mary and I lounged around Saturday morning, drinking maté and chatting for a bit before I headed down for a final visit to the Recoleta market. I didn't stay gone for too long though, as I had been appointed chef for the evening. We were hosting another empanada party, and this time Nacho let me try my hand at his recipe. Apart from bawling my eyes out from cutting the onions, it is a pretty easy recipe to make and I am excited to share it with everyone :) I think in total, I cooked up about 120 empanadas.
May 25th is Argentina's Independence Day, so Mary had asked if everyone would wear an Argentine emblem to the party. Not very many actually did, but Stephanie actually showed up with a party hat with an Argentine flag. Major props go to her! A couple of Mary and Nacho's friends brought guitars, so as the night dragged on, the guests began singing, off-key with both guitar and voice- but that really didn't matter here, everyone was having a great time. Annnd eventually the guitar was passed to my hands, so I dusted off a few pieces to share. A melodious time was had by all!
On Sunday, Lean invited everyone over to his house for parilla style pizzas. He mentioned several times that he wanted me to see his house before I left, and I'm very glad I got the opportunity to do so. Lean lives a little bit outside of the greater Buenos Aires area, in what I think would be considered Chacarita. I was incredibly impressed by how neat, orderly, and very cleverly decorated his house was. It actually reminded me a lot of my grandpa's house in Arizona. His house was very spacious, although only two bedrooms, and was decorated with an indigenous theme. Scattered around the house were various percussion instruments from different countries, including a didgeridoo from Australia. The most impressive part was the terrace. After outside to the patio and up a tiny staircase, you emerged in to this incredible open-air space, complete with a parilla. The terrace was decorated with tons of plants, all potted in unique pots, such as an old cement block or a hubcap or basically anything that one might find in a junkyard or antique garage. Lean and his uncle constructed a bamboo roof that covered a part of the seating area. Really, this place was great, and I totally did not expect that from him!
Mary made homemade pizza dough and then adorned the pizzas to be placed on the parilla on the terrace. If that doesn't sound good to you, I don't know what would. Definitely some of the best pizza I've had in my life. The night was absolutely lovely, spent eating and talking with my family for one of the final moments. Beautiful.
The rest of the week was filled with checking last minute things off of my bucket list, oh, and taking my Spanish exam.
The park close to my school became the site for a tower of books display, inspired by the Tower of Babel and Buenos Aires' title of being the book capital of the world. The spiraling tower was built completely of books from all different countries, donated by the various embassies in Buenos Aires. As Mary told me, soon the city is going to start building a library filled with books from all languages. Very impressive.
I finally found a frozen yogurt place- better late than never, I suppose! But unfortunately, it is an affiliate of a Sweet CeCe's competitor, PinkBerry. In South America they go by PinkFrost, but they're little sneaky name changing ways didn't throw me off! It was a good experience, not self-serve, and they didn't have honey for a topping, but at least they have frozen yogurt!
I should be ashamed to say, that even though I lived in the neighborhood, it took me to my last week in Buenos Aires to visit the famous Recoleta Cemetery. This place is the final resting place to many of Argentina's elite, including former president Sarmiento, and Eva Perón. I wandered around for a good hour, but never actually found Eva's grave. The place was actually pretty eerie, and I don't understand the point of creating huge mausoleums for dead people. I'm sure they did great things, but really? I'm pretty sure that money could've been spent on a lot better things around the city. That being said, when my time comes, I would like to be cremated- and if anyone is up to it, I'd like my ashes to be scattered all over the world, to provide incentive for someone to travel. But enough of that talk.
I decided to play chef one more time for my host family this week, and cooked up a Mexican dish to share with them. They all know how much I love Mexican food, and I was very excited to share it. I found a new recipe for black bean burritos, which means I actually found black beans (something that is hard to come by in Buenos Aires)! I also whipped up some guacamole, which was eaten very quickly. Nacho did criticize me for having to look at a recipe for the dish- apparently I had him fooled that I was making something I make all the time. Therefore, he said I wasn't a real cook...but whatever. You gotta try new stuff sometimes! And I know he said it all out of teasing love haha.
CEA hosted a farewell lunch for us at Siga La Vaca, which is a very nice, all-you-can-eat parilla. After the meal, a couple of prize drawings were held for students that completed the end of year survey. Lucky me, I won a HardRock Buenos Aires t-shirt! Woo!
After lunch, Melanie and I took crossed another thing off of my bucket list by visiting the ecological reserve in Puerto Madero. Hidden behind the largest population of trees in the city was a peaceful pathway that led to the mouth of the Rio de la Plata. Bikers, runners, and causal walkers accompanied Melanie and I as we toured the park, but we definitely stuck out like sore thumbs; having come from our farewell lunch, we were fairly overdressed for this outdoor occasion.
I finally began packing Friday evening. It was a lot easier packing to go home than packing to come down to Buenos Aires simply because everything had to go back. I wish it were always that easy! I took great care in wrapping the wine bottles and other souvenirs, as we all know how great of care the airline people take with luggage!
My last evening in Buenos Aires was spent eating dinner with Mary and then going out one more time in Plaza Serrano with Sara and Melanie. We got a couple of drinks there, laughed at the odd sites (a party bus, followed by a bus with an entire band playing inside) and recapped on an incredible semester.
Loli and Lean took me to the airport around six on Saturday, which was so kind of them to do, and I'm so grateful for that. Although no tears actually fell, they did sit in the bottom of my eyes for a while.
And just like that, I got through security and immigration and shortly after, boarded my flight for the USofA. May surely came quickly.
I plan on writing one more update in a little bit to give a little more closure on my semester abroad. For those of you who have kept up with me, thank you. You've encouraged me to keep writing which has now become a great passion of mine. Thank you for your support, whether you realized it or not.
Thank you.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Comings and Goings
Blogging is a lot easier to do after coming back from a trip, as those always seems more exciting than home- wherever that may be. But I realize I should probably keep note of my final weeks in Buenos Aires, and perhaps there's a few of you out there who are still intrigued by all this. Forgive this post for it's potential to be scattered, but I'll attempt to give you the highlights as of late.
The despedidas, going-away parties, have begun as I have several friends who are in different programs than I. Laura, an Argentine friend, decided she liked Spain better so she packed up her things and headed to Europe. She lived in an apartment with Sarah, Bene, Ila, and David (and now Karin), which is where I've spent a lot of time this semester. Bene left in March and his friend Karin moved in to take his place. The Zabala house has become a little family for me, and I've shared many great memories with them. Iris, who also left to go back to Germany a few weeks ago, is another part of this family whom I will miss dearly. And now, Sarah leaves to head back to the States just a few days ahead of me. All of this creates a wave of nostalgia as I look back on this semester.
Some of the CEA students, who were a part of the Spanish intensive program, packed up their things this past weekend as well. CEA sponsored a lovely dinner at the same place we had our first lunch at. This time, I was a little more knowledgeable about the food on the menu and I had a great cut of lamb with a plumb sauce. This was accompanied by a side of potato puree, a cousin of mashed potatoes. Like our arrival lunch, this meal was concluded with a champagne toast by one of the program directors, Nahuel.
Sarah's mom has been in town for the past week or so, in between their traveling to Chile and time here. One night, a few of us went out to dinner at a local Chinese restaurant, which is uniquely located inside an old pink house in one of the ritzier areas of the city. You have to ring the doorbell in order to enter, and there are only so many tables set up in what was formerly a living room. Other than our party of six, there was one other large party in the room, who were there celebrating the dad's birthday. Both of our tables kept to ourselves throughout the course of our meals, but then the lights went out and chaos began.
After they turned the lights out, the Chinese family brought out their version of birthday cake and the happy birthday song was sung....first in Spanish, then Chinese, then English (as we decided to join in), and maybe a line or two in Italian. The owner of the restaurant, or at least I presume he is, brought over a bottle of champagne to pop in celebration. All of this opened the door to friendship between our two tables, and a particular interest was formed between Sarah's mom and the birthday dad. Apparently, Sarah's mom just leaned over to tell him happy birthday, but seeing that he was a bit drunk, he decided to come over and chat it up at our table. His grown sons found his drunken self fraternizing with the Americans to be rather funny, so they started filming him. Sarah and I talked a little bit with one of the girlfriend's of the sons along with some of the rest of the family, who were all very sweet.
And then it became someone at our tables' birthday. I can't tell you who's it was, because, well, it was no ones. But for some reason, the ancient Chinese man comes over to our table with another bottle of champagne and asking who's birthday it was so he could sing to the right person. We just went with it. The rest of the night was spent laughing with our new friends about everything that happened over dinner. A very strange, but absolutely hilarious evening.
Ah! Loli's mom was in town for a couple days last week. Although she's stopped by here from time to time, I've never really talked with her. I don't think she knows any English so perhaps that was a bit of a hinderance. But this past visit I got to know her a little more. She definitely won my heart when I came home one day to a kitchen full of homemade alfajores (dulce de leche sandwiched by two short bread cookies). My family has figured out I have a deep love for sweets and desserts, and I'm not ashamed of that. Loli's mom also makes really great jam, which if I'm still here when she comes by again, she said she'd give me some to take home! Mmm :)
In keeping up with current US news, Bin Laden's death has been well reported here as well. We talked about this a bit in one of my business classes and the Argentine's have a vastly different view point on this whole situation in that many of them don't believe he is actually dead. This stems from the lack of trust they have in their own government and are questioning why North Americans are so quick to believing what our government tells us. The Argentines want proof of a body, rather than just news the government could make up because its what the people want to hear. Without going in to much political talk, this mentality says a lot about the relationship between the Argentine citizens and their government and the amount of corruptness that exists within the country.
After talking about wanting to go for the entire semester, I finally made it to the Beatles' bar. Unfortunately, I wasn't so impressed, but I'm still glad I finally went. The bar also has a museum which was birthed by the owner of one of the world's largest collection of Beatles paraphernalia. I didn't actually go in to the museum as it cost 40 pesos to enter, but I did enjoy a Yellow Submarine, which is a tall glass of hot milk accompanied by a chunk of semi-sweet chocolate to dunk. Very tasty.
I finally found a good representation of a burrito at the San Telmo market. There is a man that rolls around a thermal box of burritos and nachos for sale for 10 pesos each, or about $2.50. And let me tell you, as a Mexican food connoisseur, this was definitely a winner. I'm just sad that its taken me this long to find the burrito box man, but I have every intention of getting another one next week.
Right now I'm in the middle of final exams and presentations. I'm working on a 6-10 page paper on the relationships within the Argentine workplace in comparison to what I've experienced in the States...in Spanish. So thats a bit of a challenge. I also have a couple business projects and presentations, one of which Melanie and I came up with a brilliant business plan, which I'm excited to see what our professor has to say about. And then of course, a couple final exams which will be here and there until next Wednesday. And then....
I'm home in 12 days. Where has the time gone?
I've had such an incredible time here, and I really will miss it all, but I am also very much looking forward to being home. I miss my family, I miss TLC, I miss Nashville, and driving, and Chick-fil-a, and playing my guitar and being understood in my language. But for the next 12 days, I won't dwell on those things as I want to fully enjoy my last moments in Buenos Aires.
Ok, it's getting late and I've managed to sleep about 10 hours this past weekend, so need to try to catch up.
Un beso!
The despedidas, going-away parties, have begun as I have several friends who are in different programs than I. Laura, an Argentine friend, decided she liked Spain better so she packed up her things and headed to Europe. She lived in an apartment with Sarah, Bene, Ila, and David (and now Karin), which is where I've spent a lot of time this semester. Bene left in March and his friend Karin moved in to take his place. The Zabala house has become a little family for me, and I've shared many great memories with them. Iris, who also left to go back to Germany a few weeks ago, is another part of this family whom I will miss dearly. And now, Sarah leaves to head back to the States just a few days ahead of me. All of this creates a wave of nostalgia as I look back on this semester.
Some of the CEA students, who were a part of the Spanish intensive program, packed up their things this past weekend as well. CEA sponsored a lovely dinner at the same place we had our first lunch at. This time, I was a little more knowledgeable about the food on the menu and I had a great cut of lamb with a plumb sauce. This was accompanied by a side of potato puree, a cousin of mashed potatoes. Like our arrival lunch, this meal was concluded with a champagne toast by one of the program directors, Nahuel.
Sarah's mom has been in town for the past week or so, in between their traveling to Chile and time here. One night, a few of us went out to dinner at a local Chinese restaurant, which is uniquely located inside an old pink house in one of the ritzier areas of the city. You have to ring the doorbell in order to enter, and there are only so many tables set up in what was formerly a living room. Other than our party of six, there was one other large party in the room, who were there celebrating the dad's birthday. Both of our tables kept to ourselves throughout the course of our meals, but then the lights went out and chaos began.
After they turned the lights out, the Chinese family brought out their version of birthday cake and the happy birthday song was sung....first in Spanish, then Chinese, then English (as we decided to join in), and maybe a line or two in Italian. The owner of the restaurant, or at least I presume he is, brought over a bottle of champagne to pop in celebration. All of this opened the door to friendship between our two tables, and a particular interest was formed between Sarah's mom and the birthday dad. Apparently, Sarah's mom just leaned over to tell him happy birthday, but seeing that he was a bit drunk, he decided to come over and chat it up at our table. His grown sons found his drunken self fraternizing with the Americans to be rather funny, so they started filming him. Sarah and I talked a little bit with one of the girlfriend's of the sons along with some of the rest of the family, who were all very sweet.
And then it became someone at our tables' birthday. I can't tell you who's it was, because, well, it was no ones. But for some reason, the ancient Chinese man comes over to our table with another bottle of champagne and asking who's birthday it was so he could sing to the right person. We just went with it. The rest of the night was spent laughing with our new friends about everything that happened over dinner. A very strange, but absolutely hilarious evening.
Ah! Loli's mom was in town for a couple days last week. Although she's stopped by here from time to time, I've never really talked with her. I don't think she knows any English so perhaps that was a bit of a hinderance. But this past visit I got to know her a little more. She definitely won my heart when I came home one day to a kitchen full of homemade alfajores (dulce de leche sandwiched by two short bread cookies). My family has figured out I have a deep love for sweets and desserts, and I'm not ashamed of that. Loli's mom also makes really great jam, which if I'm still here when she comes by again, she said she'd give me some to take home! Mmm :)
In keeping up with current US news, Bin Laden's death has been well reported here as well. We talked about this a bit in one of my business classes and the Argentine's have a vastly different view point on this whole situation in that many of them don't believe he is actually dead. This stems from the lack of trust they have in their own government and are questioning why North Americans are so quick to believing what our government tells us. The Argentines want proof of a body, rather than just news the government could make up because its what the people want to hear. Without going in to much political talk, this mentality says a lot about the relationship between the Argentine citizens and their government and the amount of corruptness that exists within the country.
After talking about wanting to go for the entire semester, I finally made it to the Beatles' bar. Unfortunately, I wasn't so impressed, but I'm still glad I finally went. The bar also has a museum which was birthed by the owner of one of the world's largest collection of Beatles paraphernalia. I didn't actually go in to the museum as it cost 40 pesos to enter, but I did enjoy a Yellow Submarine, which is a tall glass of hot milk accompanied by a chunk of semi-sweet chocolate to dunk. Very tasty.
I finally found a good representation of a burrito at the San Telmo market. There is a man that rolls around a thermal box of burritos and nachos for sale for 10 pesos each, or about $2.50. And let me tell you, as a Mexican food connoisseur, this was definitely a winner. I'm just sad that its taken me this long to find the burrito box man, but I have every intention of getting another one next week.
Right now I'm in the middle of final exams and presentations. I'm working on a 6-10 page paper on the relationships within the Argentine workplace in comparison to what I've experienced in the States...in Spanish. So thats a bit of a challenge. I also have a couple business projects and presentations, one of which Melanie and I came up with a brilliant business plan, which I'm excited to see what our professor has to say about. And then of course, a couple final exams which will be here and there until next Wednesday. And then....
I'm home in 12 days. Where has the time gone?
I've had such an incredible time here, and I really will miss it all, but I am also very much looking forward to being home. I miss my family, I miss TLC, I miss Nashville, and driving, and Chick-fil-a, and playing my guitar and being understood in my language. But for the next 12 days, I won't dwell on those things as I want to fully enjoy my last moments in Buenos Aires.
Ok, it's getting late and I've managed to sleep about 10 hours this past weekend, so need to try to catch up.
Un beso!
Friday, April 29, 2011
To the Salt Frosted North!
Due to some disorganization during Easter/Passover week, I unexpectedly ended up with quite a few days off of school. So, like any good student, I holed up in my room and studied the past and future tenses of the Spanish language.
Well, ok. More like, I left my books on my desk and hopped on a plane that took me to the northern province of Salta!
Leaving my cozy apartment at 5am, I trudged through the early morning rain to catch a taxi to the airport. My flight was scheduled to take off around 6:30 with touchdown in Salta around 8:40. Apart from sitting next to a very flustered business man, it was an easy flight complete with boxed breakfast. I love flying in this country!
The Salta airport was very small. To give you a perspective of how small- the women's bathroom had one stall. Yeah, it was that small. Not needing to wait at baggage claim, I went straight to the taxi post and was able to get a taxi right away. The taxi driver was incredibly nice, as would prove to be the case with the rest of the northern Argentines. I think I asked him one question and he just went on and on about how wonderful his city was. He tried to convince me that I needed to stay there longer than one day before heading to Jujuy, which, it turns out, he was right about that. However time was not on my side and I did have to get back to schoolwork and real life. He dropped me off right in front of my hostel, but not without giving me his number just in case we would need another taxi while we were in the city.
I was meeting Melanie, Maddy and Molly later on in the afternoon as they had taken the bus from Buenos Aires the afternoon before. A bus ride is close to 20 hours (which I opted out of as I had some left-over money on my travel voucher). So I checked in to the hostel myself and finagled with the hostel director a bit to see if we could all be placed in the same room as I had reserved my room a little later than them. Like the taxi driver, the head of the hostel was incredibly nice and worked some magic to get us our own private room. It wasn't quite ready when I arrived, which was perfectly fine with me, so I sat down in the lounge to read a couple of guide books to get my bearings down.
As I was reading, a man about 8 feet tall walked in to the lounge area. Without the slightest hesitation, he asked me what I was doing that day- in English. I guess the fact that the guide book I was reading was in English gave it away. And my blonde hair. But that is how I met Elliot. Elliot is from Australia and had been weaving around South America for a couple of months, and would be returning back to Australia at the end of May to complete his law school studies at "Uni." Along the way (I think while he was in Brazil), he met up with Chris. Chris had also come in to the lounge area but was on the computer a little further away. Chris is from England, and had also been traveling around South America for a couple months. He and Elliot seemed to be on relatively the same travel path so their friendship had developed over the span of a couple different countries. Elliot told me they were getting ready to climb up to the highest peak in Salta city and invited me to go with them. I hesitated for a minute as I hadn't put my bookbag anywhere and wanted to make sure I was here the girls arrived, but I was quickly convinced to go. Five minutes in to my hostel stay and I already had new friends to go on adventures with. That is what I love.
Out on the streets of Salta, you could see the hill we would be climbing. So with no better directions, we simply walked in the general direction of the hill and eventually made it to the opening. I enjoyed hearing Elliot and Chris talk about their travel experiences and the people they met, along with finally being able to compare an English accent with an Australian accent back to back. It amazed me how quickly I felt comfortable with them, as if we had been traveling together for quite some time. But I guess when you are constantly moving from place to place you really have to expedite the friendship process. You just jump in to things and have to learn to take down the barriers a lot faster otherwise the moment to be friends with these people can quickly pass. We talked and laughed up the entire 1070 step climb.
Yes, 1070 steps- but not that we counted. There is a sign at the bottom of the hill that boasts this number. And actually, we had the option of walking to the top or taking the sky buckets up. We chose the more adventurous route, although the steps were already created and it seemed to be a popular work-out destination. The girl in front of us was in full work-out attire and sported her mp3 player without headphones. Therefore, we too got to mix nature with the commercial world the entire way up. That is one thing I've noticed in South America; the use of headphones does not seem to be required. Its as if everyone assumes that everyone else has the same music tastes and would like to listen to music with them at the same time. I beg to differ. When I'm in nature, I prefer the sound of the birds as opposed to reggaeton beats. But oh well, it gave us something to laugh about.
Along the hike, there were several booths aligning the path. We realized on the hike down that they were actually the stations of the cross, which was particularly neat as it we were coming upon Easter weekend. At the top of the hill, there was a stations of the cross presentation put on by a group of what looked like, high school students. It was such a cool experience to be standing on top of that hill, listening to the story that I've heard so many times before but never in that language.
The view from the top of the hill was truly incredible. It looked down upon the city of Salta and across to the foothills of the Andes mountains. It was kept up very well, including some of the greenest grass I think I've seen in Argentina. There was a small market, restaurant, playground, and even a little botanical garden to complete this attraction- which was surprisingly not full of tourists. We admired from several different directions before making the hike back down.
Back on ground level, we stumbled across another artisanal market, and to my surprise, the boys actually wanted to shop around for a bit. I refrained from buying anything at this time, as I figured the girls would want to come back later. Elliot also refrained from buying things as he decided he wasn't going to spend money until 4pm, for whatever reason. For lunch, Chris and I bought fresh fruit smoothies from an old man who could barely move around his booth. I got a pineapple smoothie while Chris went for a combo of banana and pineapple. I think the smoothie man liked me a little more as he told me to take a few sips but then kept refilling my cup.
Around 1, I headed back to the hostel to wait for the girls while Chris and Elliot went on to explore some other parts of the town. I was worried that I was going to miss them arriving, but that was definitely not the case. At three, the girls showed up. Their bus had been delayed 2 hours due to a terrible rain storm the night before. Just as I was about to do some more exploring, they walked in the door. Talk about perfect timing!
After we all finally got settled in, we set out to explore the main plaza and to grab a bite to eat. I had been told the empanadas in the northern provinces were the best, so I had every intention of eating only those the entire time- plus they're the cheapest thing you can buy. We found a cute outdoor cafe and enjoyed great service (which is very unusual for Argentina). I was quite shocked when the empanadas came out though. They looked as if they had been shrunk in the microwave- about half the size of what I was used to in Buenos Aires. As I did some more comparison through out the trip, I realized that this was indeed the norm. The flavor was great, however, so I wasn't misled about that!
We all needed to get a little souvenir shopping done so we went back to the market I was at earlier. This market was also situated by a little pond that was dotted with lovers everywhere. We made a game of taking pictures of as many couples as possible. Invasion of privacy? I don't think so. If they're going to be so public about their affections, I can take pictures. We also found a park where we dusted off our monkey-bar skills. The four of us won the hearts of a flirty 3-year-old boy, which made it incredibly hard for his grandpa to make him leave the park. It was such quaint and peaceful afternoon.
After a while, we were overcome with tiredness. It had been a long day of traveling for all of us, so we headed back to the hostel for a nap. The nap turned in to us waking up around 9:15, just in time for dinner and nightlife. We were also told repeatedly that Salta has incredible nightlife. We took the advice of the front desk worker and headed to a street just past the city center. We found a restaurant with seating outside and ordered some wine (Torrontes- an Argentine grape), and food. As the night progressed, things never seemed to liven up. The restaurants were closing and the people seemed to disappear. With no incentive to stay out, we headed back to the hostel without experiencing this famous nightlife. I'll blame it on Easter weekend.
The next morning, we had a bus to catch to go up to Jujuy, the province just above Salta. We headed to the bus station a little earlier because Melanie and I had to change our returning bus tickets to Buenos Aires for a later time. Working through a couple of language barrier issues, we successfully changed our tickets- even though there was a sign that specifically said we couldn't. Thats another thing I've learned here, and complements what I've learned in class. The Argentines love personal interaction, and even though a sign may read one thing, if you personally interact with someone and you become more human than just another number, the possibilities are endless.
While Melanie and I were taking care of those tickets, Maddy and Molly came back to tell us that the bus we had tickets for to Salta didn't exist. Why in the world the ticket site even let us buy tickets for a bus that didn't exist is beyond me. For a little while, we contemplated renting a car and even visited a couple of car rental places to check out the prices and feasibility of it all. It turned out that it wouldn't be cost effective at all to do so, so instead we just changed our bus tickets for next departure, which was only an hour and a half away at that point.
Two hours after leaving Salta we arrived at the bus station in Jujuy. The bus station was located next to a market (there are markets everywhere!), and there were lots of temptations as we made our way to our hostel. My host family had warned me that there wasn't anything to actually do in the actual city of Jujuy, but I actually liked it a lot. It had a lot of similarities to Salta, except maybe a bit smaller. But it was definitely a charming and quiet South American town. We arrived during siesta hour, which we had all forgotten existed as Buenos Aires is amongst the only South American city that does not participate in siestas. So the quiet streets were even more quiet as we passed through on the way to our hostel which was located about 20 minutes (walking) from the bus station.
Our room at this hostel had a great set-up: 6 beds set up in the form of triple bunk beds, and a private bath. We had two more friends, Rachita and Sara, who would be joining us later that day which completed our group of 6. Feeling adventurous, I called the top bunk.
After settling in, we walked to a nearby park and relaxed for a little bit. Then we decided to head back towards the bus station to check out the markets we had passed on the way in. Along the way we got distracted and stopped in for some ice cream, which I think was 6 pesos for two scoops in a waffle cone, which translates to $1.50. And it was good!
The hostel had a full kitchen at our disposal, and as many of us were missing cooking (half sarcasm), we thought it would be fun to make dinner that night. We settled on an omelette menu and found a grocery store nearby to get what we needed (siesta time had passed and stores were opened again). The omelette idea changed to a huge scrambler as we realized the difficulty in getting everything ready at once, but nevertheless, we cooked up a fantastic scrambler mixed with onions, cheese, and green bell peppers. We even went so far as to making our own, fresh, french fries seasoned with a few onions and some basil. We found a huge bottle of wine on sale for 12 pesos ($3) which was a great accompaniment to our fine dish. It was a great evening of eating and enjoying one another's company. The wine consumption left us all a bit tired so we called it quits at, wait for it, 10:30. But I have absolutely no shame in that bed time especially since there wasn't much of anything to do after that hour in Jujuy anyway.
Sometime during the night, Sara and Rachita arrived so we woke up to a full room. We had a little breakfast of leftover eggs and bread and then got ready for our all day excursion to Pumamarca and the Salinas Grandes.
Around 9am, we piled in to a van with about 10 other people to Pumamarca. The drive up was incredibly gorgeous, with rolling hills that eventually became a desert scenery. Cactus began to pop up and on occasion I would see a small stream. This is my favorite scenery. Our tour guide was great and was really informative all the way up. I went in and out of listening to him however, as translating gets tiring, and I was also sitting in the back of the bus so it was a bit more of a strain to hear. But he was an extremely animated guy who clearly loved his job. Sara later found out that he used to be a teacher who had taught in many different towns which inevitably made him known everywhere we went.
It was a long and winding road all the way up and all the way down. Jujuy is already in a higher altitude but we just kept going higher. It is in this province, and this province only, that the use of coca leaves is legal as it helps with high altitude sickness. Our tour guide was prepared with a bag full of the leaves and encouraged us all to try. Well, when in Rome! The locals that chew this stuff eventually create permanent pouches in their cheeks. You don't actually eat these leaves, but stuff them to the side and suck on them for a long time. I don't think you can actually get high from the leaves until an hour or so of use. I only tried it for about 10 minutes before I got tired of it and spit it out.
Our first stop was in Pumamarca, which is home to the Cerro de los Siete Colores (Hill of 7 Colors). Thanks to different minerals and geological times, this area of hills adorned the area with more than the typical red-brown desert colors. There have been so many unique natural beauties that I have seen in my travels in Argentina, each one vastly different from the other.
At the base of the Cerro de los Siete Colores is a little town that blends in perfectly with the desert scene. The town center was taken over by a massive market that was filled mainly with different articles of clothing made from Alpaca hair and also a good amount of jewelry (not from Alpaca). We wove in and out of the aisles admiring the craftsmanship of so many different artists. I finally gave in and bought an Alpaca sweater which is incredibly soft... and now I think I might buy another one. We didn't stay for long, however, as we had to move on to the Salinas Grandes. But our tour guide told us we would be stopping back there for lunch which would also give us more time to look around.
Back in the bus and back to the winding roads, we made our way to the Salinas Grandes. Along the way, we spotted some wild life, Vicunas, which look very similar to the llama. Unfortunately, I only got a picture of their behinds, but Google images also have a good selection of pictures, ha!
The Salinas Grandes is a field of salt. Many years ago there was an ocean covering the land, but as time would have it, it has dried up leaving no trace but this field of white. I think the salt goes down about 6 feet or so and I'm not quite sure how wide the area was. The salt is then naturally mined in few pools that have been dug in various places in the field. I had absolutely no idea salt flats existed until this trip, and I am so glad I got to experience these! The girls and I had a lot of fun taking optical illusion pictures and well, just pictures in general. Such a unique landscape. And of course, I tasted some of the salt in it's pure form, which I don't think is recommended for your health, buttt oh well.
It had been a long day and we were all getting pretty hungry, so we got back on the bus and headed back down the mountain to Pumamarca for lunch break. I think one of the other members in our group started feeling a little light headed from the altitude and I was beginning to feel it a little bit as well and stayed in the bus when we stopped at the highest peak.
After lunch, some of us went shopping again while the others went for a little hike through the colored hills. In the market, we ran in to a couple other girls from our program who happened to be staying in Jujuy for the weekend. We also found a llama in the market! But, if you took a picture of it you would have to pay its owner. Tricky tricky people they were!
It was a long day and we headed back to our hostel as the sun began to go down. We still had some wine leftover from the night before so we decided to have a little happy hour along with some grapes and cheese that Sara and Rachita bought in Cafayate, the wine country of Salta. We didn't have the gumption to make dinner again so walked down to the city center and found an upscale convenience store for some humitas and tamales. A humita is very similar to a tamale, but it is filled with ground corn and cheese. Very tasty. Somehow, an ice cream store found us for dessert and we just couldn't say no to its offer.
I think I've commented before about the dogs that just roam the streets here. They are all very tame and have never had a bad experience with them. On our walk back from dinner we noticed a strange dog that liked to play in traffic. Every time a car would drive by, he would go running directly in front of the headlights while barking. We were terrified a car would actually hit him, but they never did. But this dog did this for every car that came by, until he got distracted by another group of dogs. We were somewhat in the path of these dogs so we tried to walk away quickly, without running, to get away before the inevitable fight broke out. It was a close call on my part, but I got my foot out of the way just in time and the fight was soon over. But then this strange dog continued to follow us all the way back to our hostel, still playing with the cars. Very very strange, and for the first time I was actually afraid of a dog.
Our last day was spent lounging around the city. We were all leaving at various times so we couldn't really do any big excursions. Melanie, Rachita, Sara, and I tried to go visit the "hot springs," (we found out later it was actually just a pool, more or less), but after waiting over thirty minutes for the bus to come, we settled for hanging out at a café.
And now comes the fun part. The journey home.
Melanie and I were supposed to leave Jujuy on a bus at 6:30. We went to the ticket booth to find out which platform we should expect the bus to meet us at. I thought she mentioned something about having to wait until 8pm, but Melanie understood we had to wait at platform 8. Well, 6:30 rolls around and the bus hasn't come. 7 goes by and it still hadn't come. So we go back to the ticket lady and we discover that our bus had broken down or had some trouble at the Bolivian border, or something. Regardless, we did indeed have to wait until 8 for the next bus. We were told we didn't have to change our tickets or anything, so we found a bench outside and ate fresh-popped popcorn.
At about 7:45, we went to the bathroom to avoid having to use the horrible bus bathrooms. But honestly, I think the bus bathroom may have been a better option. And this is the case in many public restrooms in Argentina: they have something called a "collaborative," which means you pay to have toilet paper and, I think, a "clean" bathroom. I've learned to bring toilet paper with me, or just suck it up just not use any. It does not make sense to me to pay to use a bathroom that is most certainly not clean. Oh! Some of these bathrooms don't even have a seat! So you're essentially paying to pee in a hole. And good luck finding soap afterwards.
After the bathroom, Melanie realizes she can't find her bus ticket. At this point, I saw the bus pulling around the corner so we had to act fast. We went back to the ticket lady, explained she had thrown her ticket away and asked if another ticket could be printed. She couldn't do that, but she entered her information into the computer system and told us we were ok to get on the bus.
I handed my ticket to the bus assistant, who ripped it but then would not let us on the bus. We started to explain Melanie's problem, but that wasn't why we weren't allowed on the bus. He pointed out that we were supposed to be on the previous bus. Yes, we knew that, but it had broken down and we were told to get on this bus and that we also did not need to get new tickets. We couldn't board because our seats had been taken. At this point, Melanie and I were on the verge of tears as we just wanted to get home.
A man with a clipboad finally came over and he got us situated on the bus. We were bumped down to the bottom floor, but not in paired seats. They didn't take our bags under the bus either, which really but a damper on our leg room. And it would be a 20 hour bus ride. As we take in the atmosphere, I start getting the feeling that we were not going to have typical bus service. Usually on these types of trips, you are given meals and blankets. But I had a funny feeling about this place.
The lady sitting next to Melanie seemed a little flustered, and about 2 hours in to our trip she asked the driver if we were going to be eating. He said we would be stopping shortly, but not before we picked up three extra passengers who didn't even have a seat and had to stand in the aisle.
For dinner, we were all kicked off in a place that I still do not know where. We filed in to a cafeteria type of place and were served some type of chicken and rice platters. It was here that we realized we were the only white people on the bus (which I only say to give you a better idea of the place). On all other trips I had been on, there was a great mixture of people, but not here. I was beginning to understand we were on a third class bus.
After dinner and back on the bus, the bus assistant approached me and told me I would have to get up and relocate on our next stop because someone else had that seat. Upset, I didn't understand why I was going to have to get up in the middle of the night after my original seat had already been taken. I didn't understand why this new passenger couldn't just go upstairs. But it was late, and I could not think to argue or question in Spanish. So, three hours later, I was moved upstairs.
Upstairs was an entirely different world. The smell was horrible. There were children sleeping in the aisle. Nothing about it was clean. In order for me to sit, we had to wake up a very old, very typical South American looking woman who was asleep with her mouth wide open. She tried to talk with me a little bit, but I don't think she was actually speaking Spanish. But nevertheless, she shared her blanket with me, and for that I was extremely thankful as I would have otherwise frozen during the night.
I didn't sleep much that night, and at 7:30, the bus came to a stop for breakfast. We were all herded off again to another unknown place in an unknown cafeteria. All of the women stood in line to use the bathroom of which there were about 10 stalls but only 3 that were functioning. For breakfast, we had to pay to get a cup of tea or coffee and a croissant and biscuit. I opted out of this. Thirty minutes later, we were back on the bus.
About this time, I began noticing how bad the lady next to me smelled. But it wasn't a body odor smell either. It wasn't until much later in the afternoon that I realized she had been chewing coca leaves the entire time. Coca leaves have a horrendous smell, which I didn't realize when I tried it earlier in the trip because I was not a seasoned user. However, I smelled it now and I smelled it the entire day. I could not turn my head in her direction and was forced to take small sips of air.
Lunch was the same type of deal as breakfast and dinner, except we stopped at a gas station more or less and were given thirty minutes to buy snacks. Again, I opted out of this and was thankful for the leftover pieces of fruit and popcorn I had from the day before.
Sometime after lunch, the bus was stopped by immigration patrol or something of the sort. All of the passengers had to pull out their identification. I think there has been a lot of trouble with illegal Bolivian immigrants, and I could definitely see how this was a target checkpoint.
They did play movies on this trip, however each one was about the most gory movie I have ever seen. I settled for sleeping, which seemed to pass the time a lot quicker anyway. I was miserable the entire time. By the time we finally pulled in to the Buenos Aires bus station, it had been about 24 hours worth of traveling. Melanie and I practically ran home. There were several points that I wanted to cry on that trip, but my eyes were so dry that I couldn't even produce tears when I actually wanted to. Buenos Aires is kind of an exception to the majority of South America. That bus ride really gave me a taste of a lot of the unjust and corrupt practices that exist particularly within Argentina.
I am now back home in Buenos Aires, and have had ample amount of time to recuperate from that bus experience. It's now down to three weeks left and I'll be back home in Raleigh. The next three weeks will be filled with studying, finishing final projects, and checking off any last minute Buenos Aires musts before I head home.
Well, ok. More like, I left my books on my desk and hopped on a plane that took me to the northern province of Salta!
Leaving my cozy apartment at 5am, I trudged through the early morning rain to catch a taxi to the airport. My flight was scheduled to take off around 6:30 with touchdown in Salta around 8:40. Apart from sitting next to a very flustered business man, it was an easy flight complete with boxed breakfast. I love flying in this country!
The Salta airport was very small. To give you a perspective of how small- the women's bathroom had one stall. Yeah, it was that small. Not needing to wait at baggage claim, I went straight to the taxi post and was able to get a taxi right away. The taxi driver was incredibly nice, as would prove to be the case with the rest of the northern Argentines. I think I asked him one question and he just went on and on about how wonderful his city was. He tried to convince me that I needed to stay there longer than one day before heading to Jujuy, which, it turns out, he was right about that. However time was not on my side and I did have to get back to schoolwork and real life. He dropped me off right in front of my hostel, but not without giving me his number just in case we would need another taxi while we were in the city.
I was meeting Melanie, Maddy and Molly later on in the afternoon as they had taken the bus from Buenos Aires the afternoon before. A bus ride is close to 20 hours (which I opted out of as I had some left-over money on my travel voucher). So I checked in to the hostel myself and finagled with the hostel director a bit to see if we could all be placed in the same room as I had reserved my room a little later than them. Like the taxi driver, the head of the hostel was incredibly nice and worked some magic to get us our own private room. It wasn't quite ready when I arrived, which was perfectly fine with me, so I sat down in the lounge to read a couple of guide books to get my bearings down.
As I was reading, a man about 8 feet tall walked in to the lounge area. Without the slightest hesitation, he asked me what I was doing that day- in English. I guess the fact that the guide book I was reading was in English gave it away. And my blonde hair. But that is how I met Elliot. Elliot is from Australia and had been weaving around South America for a couple of months, and would be returning back to Australia at the end of May to complete his law school studies at "Uni." Along the way (I think while he was in Brazil), he met up with Chris. Chris had also come in to the lounge area but was on the computer a little further away. Chris is from England, and had also been traveling around South America for a couple months. He and Elliot seemed to be on relatively the same travel path so their friendship had developed over the span of a couple different countries. Elliot told me they were getting ready to climb up to the highest peak in Salta city and invited me to go with them. I hesitated for a minute as I hadn't put my bookbag anywhere and wanted to make sure I was here the girls arrived, but I was quickly convinced to go. Five minutes in to my hostel stay and I already had new friends to go on adventures with. That is what I love.
Out on the streets of Salta, you could see the hill we would be climbing. So with no better directions, we simply walked in the general direction of the hill and eventually made it to the opening. I enjoyed hearing Elliot and Chris talk about their travel experiences and the people they met, along with finally being able to compare an English accent with an Australian accent back to back. It amazed me how quickly I felt comfortable with them, as if we had been traveling together for quite some time. But I guess when you are constantly moving from place to place you really have to expedite the friendship process. You just jump in to things and have to learn to take down the barriers a lot faster otherwise the moment to be friends with these people can quickly pass. We talked and laughed up the entire 1070 step climb.
Salta
Yes, 1070 steps- but not that we counted. There is a sign at the bottom of the hill that boasts this number. And actually, we had the option of walking to the top or taking the sky buckets up. We chose the more adventurous route, although the steps were already created and it seemed to be a popular work-out destination. The girl in front of us was in full work-out attire and sported her mp3 player without headphones. Therefore, we too got to mix nature with the commercial world the entire way up. That is one thing I've noticed in South America; the use of headphones does not seem to be required. Its as if everyone assumes that everyone else has the same music tastes and would like to listen to music with them at the same time. I beg to differ. When I'm in nature, I prefer the sound of the birds as opposed to reggaeton beats. But oh well, it gave us something to laugh about.
Along the hike, there were several booths aligning the path. We realized on the hike down that they were actually the stations of the cross, which was particularly neat as it we were coming upon Easter weekend. At the top of the hill, there was a stations of the cross presentation put on by a group of what looked like, high school students. It was such a cool experience to be standing on top of that hill, listening to the story that I've heard so many times before but never in that language.
The view from the top of the hill was truly incredible. It looked down upon the city of Salta and across to the foothills of the Andes mountains. It was kept up very well, including some of the greenest grass I think I've seen in Argentina. There was a small market, restaurant, playground, and even a little botanical garden to complete this attraction- which was surprisingly not full of tourists. We admired from several different directions before making the hike back down.
Back on ground level, we stumbled across another artisanal market, and to my surprise, the boys actually wanted to shop around for a bit. I refrained from buying anything at this time, as I figured the girls would want to come back later. Elliot also refrained from buying things as he decided he wasn't going to spend money until 4pm, for whatever reason. For lunch, Chris and I bought fresh fruit smoothies from an old man who could barely move around his booth. I got a pineapple smoothie while Chris went for a combo of banana and pineapple. I think the smoothie man liked me a little more as he told me to take a few sips but then kept refilling my cup.
Around 1, I headed back to the hostel to wait for the girls while Chris and Elliot went on to explore some other parts of the town. I was worried that I was going to miss them arriving, but that was definitely not the case. At three, the girls showed up. Their bus had been delayed 2 hours due to a terrible rain storm the night before. Just as I was about to do some more exploring, they walked in the door. Talk about perfect timing!
After we all finally got settled in, we set out to explore the main plaza and to grab a bite to eat. I had been told the empanadas in the northern provinces were the best, so I had every intention of eating only those the entire time- plus they're the cheapest thing you can buy. We found a cute outdoor cafe and enjoyed great service (which is very unusual for Argentina). I was quite shocked when the empanadas came out though. They looked as if they had been shrunk in the microwave- about half the size of what I was used to in Buenos Aires. As I did some more comparison through out the trip, I realized that this was indeed the norm. The flavor was great, however, so I wasn't misled about that!
We all needed to get a little souvenir shopping done so we went back to the market I was at earlier. This market was also situated by a little pond that was dotted with lovers everywhere. We made a game of taking pictures of as many couples as possible. Invasion of privacy? I don't think so. If they're going to be so public about their affections, I can take pictures. We also found a park where we dusted off our monkey-bar skills. The four of us won the hearts of a flirty 3-year-old boy, which made it incredibly hard for his grandpa to make him leave the park. It was such quaint and peaceful afternoon.
After a while, we were overcome with tiredness. It had been a long day of traveling for all of us, so we headed back to the hostel for a nap. The nap turned in to us waking up around 9:15, just in time for dinner and nightlife. We were also told repeatedly that Salta has incredible nightlife. We took the advice of the front desk worker and headed to a street just past the city center. We found a restaurant with seating outside and ordered some wine (Torrontes- an Argentine grape), and food. As the night progressed, things never seemed to liven up. The restaurants were closing and the people seemed to disappear. With no incentive to stay out, we headed back to the hostel without experiencing this famous nightlife. I'll blame it on Easter weekend.
The next morning, we had a bus to catch to go up to Jujuy, the province just above Salta. We headed to the bus station a little earlier because Melanie and I had to change our returning bus tickets to Buenos Aires for a later time. Working through a couple of language barrier issues, we successfully changed our tickets- even though there was a sign that specifically said we couldn't. Thats another thing I've learned here, and complements what I've learned in class. The Argentines love personal interaction, and even though a sign may read one thing, if you personally interact with someone and you become more human than just another number, the possibilities are endless.
While Melanie and I were taking care of those tickets, Maddy and Molly came back to tell us that the bus we had tickets for to Salta didn't exist. Why in the world the ticket site even let us buy tickets for a bus that didn't exist is beyond me. For a little while, we contemplated renting a car and even visited a couple of car rental places to check out the prices and feasibility of it all. It turned out that it wouldn't be cost effective at all to do so, so instead we just changed our bus tickets for next departure, which was only an hour and a half away at that point.
Two hours after leaving Salta we arrived at the bus station in Jujuy. The bus station was located next to a market (there are markets everywhere!), and there were lots of temptations as we made our way to our hostel. My host family had warned me that there wasn't anything to actually do in the actual city of Jujuy, but I actually liked it a lot. It had a lot of similarities to Salta, except maybe a bit smaller. But it was definitely a charming and quiet South American town. We arrived during siesta hour, which we had all forgotten existed as Buenos Aires is amongst the only South American city that does not participate in siestas. So the quiet streets were even more quiet as we passed through on the way to our hostel which was located about 20 minutes (walking) from the bus station.
Our room at this hostel had a great set-up: 6 beds set up in the form of triple bunk beds, and a private bath. We had two more friends, Rachita and Sara, who would be joining us later that day which completed our group of 6. Feeling adventurous, I called the top bunk.
After settling in, we walked to a nearby park and relaxed for a little bit. Then we decided to head back towards the bus station to check out the markets we had passed on the way in. Along the way we got distracted and stopped in for some ice cream, which I think was 6 pesos for two scoops in a waffle cone, which translates to $1.50. And it was good!
The hostel had a full kitchen at our disposal, and as many of us were missing cooking (half sarcasm), we thought it would be fun to make dinner that night. We settled on an omelette menu and found a grocery store nearby to get what we needed (siesta time had passed and stores were opened again). The omelette idea changed to a huge scrambler as we realized the difficulty in getting everything ready at once, but nevertheless, we cooked up a fantastic scrambler mixed with onions, cheese, and green bell peppers. We even went so far as to making our own, fresh, french fries seasoned with a few onions and some basil. We found a huge bottle of wine on sale for 12 pesos ($3) which was a great accompaniment to our fine dish. It was a great evening of eating and enjoying one another's company. The wine consumption left us all a bit tired so we called it quits at, wait for it, 10:30. But I have absolutely no shame in that bed time especially since there wasn't much of anything to do after that hour in Jujuy anyway.
Homemade dinner :)
Sometime during the night, Sara and Rachita arrived so we woke up to a full room. We had a little breakfast of leftover eggs and bread and then got ready for our all day excursion to Pumamarca and the Salinas Grandes.
Around 9am, we piled in to a van with about 10 other people to Pumamarca. The drive up was incredibly gorgeous, with rolling hills that eventually became a desert scenery. Cactus began to pop up and on occasion I would see a small stream. This is my favorite scenery. Our tour guide was great and was really informative all the way up. I went in and out of listening to him however, as translating gets tiring, and I was also sitting in the back of the bus so it was a bit more of a strain to hear. But he was an extremely animated guy who clearly loved his job. Sara later found out that he used to be a teacher who had taught in many different towns which inevitably made him known everywhere we went.
It was a long and winding road all the way up and all the way down. Jujuy is already in a higher altitude but we just kept going higher. It is in this province, and this province only, that the use of coca leaves is legal as it helps with high altitude sickness. Our tour guide was prepared with a bag full of the leaves and encouraged us all to try. Well, when in Rome! The locals that chew this stuff eventually create permanent pouches in their cheeks. You don't actually eat these leaves, but stuff them to the side and suck on them for a long time. I don't think you can actually get high from the leaves until an hour or so of use. I only tried it for about 10 minutes before I got tired of it and spit it out.
Coca leaves
Our first stop was in Pumamarca, which is home to the Cerro de los Siete Colores (Hill of 7 Colors). Thanks to different minerals and geological times, this area of hills adorned the area with more than the typical red-brown desert colors. There have been so many unique natural beauties that I have seen in my travels in Argentina, each one vastly different from the other.
At the base of the Cerro de los Siete Colores is a little town that blends in perfectly with the desert scene. The town center was taken over by a massive market that was filled mainly with different articles of clothing made from Alpaca hair and also a good amount of jewelry (not from Alpaca). We wove in and out of the aisles admiring the craftsmanship of so many different artists. I finally gave in and bought an Alpaca sweater which is incredibly soft... and now I think I might buy another one. We didn't stay for long, however, as we had to move on to the Salinas Grandes. But our tour guide told us we would be stopping back there for lunch which would also give us more time to look around.
Cerro de los Siete Colores
Back in the bus and back to the winding roads, we made our way to the Salinas Grandes. Along the way, we spotted some wild life, Vicunas, which look very similar to the llama. Unfortunately, I only got a picture of their behinds, but Google images also have a good selection of pictures, ha!
The Salinas Grandes is a field of salt. Many years ago there was an ocean covering the land, but as time would have it, it has dried up leaving no trace but this field of white. I think the salt goes down about 6 feet or so and I'm not quite sure how wide the area was. The salt is then naturally mined in few pools that have been dug in various places in the field. I had absolutely no idea salt flats existed until this trip, and I am so glad I got to experience these! The girls and I had a lot of fun taking optical illusion pictures and well, just pictures in general. Such a unique landscape. And of course, I tasted some of the salt in it's pure form, which I don't think is recommended for your health, buttt oh well.
It had been a long day and we were all getting pretty hungry, so we got back on the bus and headed back down the mountain to Pumamarca for lunch break. I think one of the other members in our group started feeling a little light headed from the altitude and I was beginning to feel it a little bit as well and stayed in the bus when we stopped at the highest peak.
After lunch, some of us went shopping again while the others went for a little hike through the colored hills. In the market, we ran in to a couple other girls from our program who happened to be staying in Jujuy for the weekend. We also found a llama in the market! But, if you took a picture of it you would have to pay its owner. Tricky tricky people they were!
It was a long day and we headed back to our hostel as the sun began to go down. We still had some wine leftover from the night before so we decided to have a little happy hour along with some grapes and cheese that Sara and Rachita bought in Cafayate, the wine country of Salta. We didn't have the gumption to make dinner again so walked down to the city center and found an upscale convenience store for some humitas and tamales. A humita is very similar to a tamale, but it is filled with ground corn and cheese. Very tasty. Somehow, an ice cream store found us for dessert and we just couldn't say no to its offer.
I think I've commented before about the dogs that just roam the streets here. They are all very tame and have never had a bad experience with them. On our walk back from dinner we noticed a strange dog that liked to play in traffic. Every time a car would drive by, he would go running directly in front of the headlights while barking. We were terrified a car would actually hit him, but they never did. But this dog did this for every car that came by, until he got distracted by another group of dogs. We were somewhat in the path of these dogs so we tried to walk away quickly, without running, to get away before the inevitable fight broke out. It was a close call on my part, but I got my foot out of the way just in time and the fight was soon over. But then this strange dog continued to follow us all the way back to our hostel, still playing with the cars. Very very strange, and for the first time I was actually afraid of a dog.
Our last day was spent lounging around the city. We were all leaving at various times so we couldn't really do any big excursions. Melanie, Rachita, Sara, and I tried to go visit the "hot springs," (we found out later it was actually just a pool, more or less), but after waiting over thirty minutes for the bus to come, we settled for hanging out at a café.
And now comes the fun part. The journey home.
Melanie and I were supposed to leave Jujuy on a bus at 6:30. We went to the ticket booth to find out which platform we should expect the bus to meet us at. I thought she mentioned something about having to wait until 8pm, but Melanie understood we had to wait at platform 8. Well, 6:30 rolls around and the bus hasn't come. 7 goes by and it still hadn't come. So we go back to the ticket lady and we discover that our bus had broken down or had some trouble at the Bolivian border, or something. Regardless, we did indeed have to wait until 8 for the next bus. We were told we didn't have to change our tickets or anything, so we found a bench outside and ate fresh-popped popcorn.
At about 7:45, we went to the bathroom to avoid having to use the horrible bus bathrooms. But honestly, I think the bus bathroom may have been a better option. And this is the case in many public restrooms in Argentina: they have something called a "collaborative," which means you pay to have toilet paper and, I think, a "clean" bathroom. I've learned to bring toilet paper with me, or just suck it up just not use any. It does not make sense to me to pay to use a bathroom that is most certainly not clean. Oh! Some of these bathrooms don't even have a seat! So you're essentially paying to pee in a hole. And good luck finding soap afterwards.
After the bathroom, Melanie realizes she can't find her bus ticket. At this point, I saw the bus pulling around the corner so we had to act fast. We went back to the ticket lady, explained she had thrown her ticket away and asked if another ticket could be printed. She couldn't do that, but she entered her information into the computer system and told us we were ok to get on the bus.
I handed my ticket to the bus assistant, who ripped it but then would not let us on the bus. We started to explain Melanie's problem, but that wasn't why we weren't allowed on the bus. He pointed out that we were supposed to be on the previous bus. Yes, we knew that, but it had broken down and we were told to get on this bus and that we also did not need to get new tickets. We couldn't board because our seats had been taken. At this point, Melanie and I were on the verge of tears as we just wanted to get home.
A man with a clipboad finally came over and he got us situated on the bus. We were bumped down to the bottom floor, but not in paired seats. They didn't take our bags under the bus either, which really but a damper on our leg room. And it would be a 20 hour bus ride. As we take in the atmosphere, I start getting the feeling that we were not going to have typical bus service. Usually on these types of trips, you are given meals and blankets. But I had a funny feeling about this place.
The lady sitting next to Melanie seemed a little flustered, and about 2 hours in to our trip she asked the driver if we were going to be eating. He said we would be stopping shortly, but not before we picked up three extra passengers who didn't even have a seat and had to stand in the aisle.
For dinner, we were all kicked off in a place that I still do not know where. We filed in to a cafeteria type of place and were served some type of chicken and rice platters. It was here that we realized we were the only white people on the bus (which I only say to give you a better idea of the place). On all other trips I had been on, there was a great mixture of people, but not here. I was beginning to understand we were on a third class bus.
After dinner and back on the bus, the bus assistant approached me and told me I would have to get up and relocate on our next stop because someone else had that seat. Upset, I didn't understand why I was going to have to get up in the middle of the night after my original seat had already been taken. I didn't understand why this new passenger couldn't just go upstairs. But it was late, and I could not think to argue or question in Spanish. So, three hours later, I was moved upstairs.
Upstairs was an entirely different world. The smell was horrible. There were children sleeping in the aisle. Nothing about it was clean. In order for me to sit, we had to wake up a very old, very typical South American looking woman who was asleep with her mouth wide open. She tried to talk with me a little bit, but I don't think she was actually speaking Spanish. But nevertheless, she shared her blanket with me, and for that I was extremely thankful as I would have otherwise frozen during the night.
I didn't sleep much that night, and at 7:30, the bus came to a stop for breakfast. We were all herded off again to another unknown place in an unknown cafeteria. All of the women stood in line to use the bathroom of which there were about 10 stalls but only 3 that were functioning. For breakfast, we had to pay to get a cup of tea or coffee and a croissant and biscuit. I opted out of this. Thirty minutes later, we were back on the bus.
About this time, I began noticing how bad the lady next to me smelled. But it wasn't a body odor smell either. It wasn't until much later in the afternoon that I realized she had been chewing coca leaves the entire time. Coca leaves have a horrendous smell, which I didn't realize when I tried it earlier in the trip because I was not a seasoned user. However, I smelled it now and I smelled it the entire day. I could not turn my head in her direction and was forced to take small sips of air.
Lunch was the same type of deal as breakfast and dinner, except we stopped at a gas station more or less and were given thirty minutes to buy snacks. Again, I opted out of this and was thankful for the leftover pieces of fruit and popcorn I had from the day before.
Sometime after lunch, the bus was stopped by immigration patrol or something of the sort. All of the passengers had to pull out their identification. I think there has been a lot of trouble with illegal Bolivian immigrants, and I could definitely see how this was a target checkpoint.
They did play movies on this trip, however each one was about the most gory movie I have ever seen. I settled for sleeping, which seemed to pass the time a lot quicker anyway. I was miserable the entire time. By the time we finally pulled in to the Buenos Aires bus station, it had been about 24 hours worth of traveling. Melanie and I practically ran home. There were several points that I wanted to cry on that trip, but my eyes were so dry that I couldn't even produce tears when I actually wanted to. Buenos Aires is kind of an exception to the majority of South America. That bus ride really gave me a taste of a lot of the unjust and corrupt practices that exist particularly within Argentina.
I am now back home in Buenos Aires, and have had ample amount of time to recuperate from that bus experience. It's now down to three weeks left and I'll be back home in Raleigh. The next three weeks will be filled with studying, finishing final projects, and checking off any last minute Buenos Aires musts before I head home.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
(Water)Falling for Iguazu
Forty students from my program boarded a bus this past Thursday night to head to province of Misiones, which is the most northeastern one can go in Argentina before crossing over to Brazil or Paraguay. I have been very impressed with the quality of the more long-distance buses Argentina offers, something that I have never experienced in the United States. The bus system seems to be the preferred method of transportation, especially as airfare is incredibly expensive. The one thing I have not gotten used to however, is sleeping on the bus. A window seat makes this a little more doable, but in general, the long bus trips cause for a sleepless night. I have learned that the front of the bus is typically a lot colder than the back, but also that the temperature within the bus can go from an Antarctic breeze to feeling like the hot Arizonan sun within moments. Also, if you're sitting in the front of the bus, you're likely to hear the driver's music all during the night- essentially designed to keep him awake, but also has the wonderful affect of keeping you awake as well.
Around 9am we arrived in Las Posadas where we boarded a smaller bus to shuttle us to an estancia, or the equivalent of farm, more or less. There had been a lot of talk about getting an incredible breakfast, so we were all excited to avoid the bus food. We were welcomed by the "lady of the estancia" who brought us to a large patio dining area. They already had the parilla going for lunch later on. For breakfast, we were served maté cocido (the tea-bag form of maté usually drank from a gourd), and some homemade sweet-potato-like pastries which were covered sugar crystals. Some were more flaky and crispy than others, but they all had a fabulous wood-fired oven taste.
After breakfast, we were introduced to the gauchos who led us to the cattle stables. They demonstrated a bit of their daily activities with the cows which included wrangling, giving vaccinations, weighing, and washing. I guess I had never thought about cows needing to bathe before, so it was quite a surprise to see this actually happen. There was a trough filled with non-potable, soapy water. The cows followed the path leading to the trough and then kerplunked their massive bodies in to the water, very unhappily, I might add. Some of these cows tried everything they could to run away from bath time, but the gauchos had designed a maze so tightly that there was literally no space for them to turn themselves around once in line.
Lunch was served all too soon after breakfast, and it was none of than asado. Now, it's safe to say that I've had my share of asado in my time here, but I have never tasted meat so fresh as this! There was definitely still a cow flavor to most of the pieces, and there is no doubt in my mind that at one point, these cows had bathed with the ones we saw that day. The estancia we were at was not a slaughter house, but I do think they get some of the meat back once it has been sent away. Aside from asado, we had some chorizo, salad, and fruit in typical Argentine fashion.
After a little time to enjoy the land of the estancia and a quick wave to Paraguay across the river, we hopped back in our bus and headed to see the Jesuit ruins. It was pretty cool to walk in such an ancient civilization. Unfortunately, I didn't hear much of the history of it, such as the decline of the people and the end of the era. I think our group in general was still exhausted from traveling all night before and had not gotten the chance to shower yet.
From Posadas we had a 4 hour bus ride to our hotel in Iguazu, and I think we slept the whole way there, dreaming of a hot shower and a change of clothes. I was really excited to experience an Argentine hotel, and I was definitely not disappointed. As we waited in the lobby to check in, we were served a refreshing fruit smoothie. Melanie and I had a room together, and from what we heard from our other friends, we apparently got some special treatment! Two beds, somewhere between the size of a twin and full, a cute living area, big tv, clean bathrooms, and a tea/mate kettle. I don´t know why we were all so excited to be staying in a hotel, its not like we live in trashy places in Buenos Aires. I guess there was just something about being treated a step closer to royalty. We enjoyed a buffet dinner, unlike the buffets I´ve been to in the US. This one had plenty of meat choices and more appetizer like foods than actual side-dishes. Our program director suggested we get to bed a little earlier as the following day we would be out all day. She didn´t need to do much to convince us about that however, we were really looking forward to sleeping in those slightly larger beds!
We had been told the breakfast buffet was an "American" breakfast, complete with eggs, bacon, pancakes, waffles...the works. Well, maybe our minds got ahead of us, but I do know for a fact we were promised eggs. And we did get eggs, just not the scrambled ones I thought we would be getting. As for the bacon, pancakes and waffles, well, that didn´t happen either. But enough about food.
We took a short bus ride to the Iguazu National Park, which is apparently larger than Buenos Aires itself, but there is only a small portion open to visitors. The waterfalls in Iguazu Park are shared with Brazil, but Argentina has the majority of the falls on their side. Brazil supposedly has a great view of all of the falls, but other than that, we got the better end of the deal (and I´m also jealous that I don´t have a visa to cross over to Brazil).
I can´t tell you the exact number of falls that were located in the park, because there were a ton. Each lookout was carefully planned and marked by a stamped path, giving the park an overall feel of an amusement park. As the day progressed, more and more people came, filling up the prime picture-taking spots. But despite this, the falls were absolutely incredible. I have never in my life seen water falling in such a capacity, with such force, and in such a majestic manner. And to think, this water never stops flowing! Its not something that can be turned on and off, it is just constantly running! Some of the students in the group opted to take a boat ride directly into the falls. They said it was a certainly a thrill, but it was impossible to see anything as they were blinded with water spray.
The mother of all water falls was La Garganta del Diablo, The Devil´s Throat. It was a long bridge walk out to see this, all surrounded by perfectly calm water. Suddenly, the water opened up into a giant crater allowing thousands of tons of water to be pulled by gravity into a deep abyss. When the wind picked up just slightly, any bystander on the bridge inevitably got soaked by the excess spray.
To travel is to understand a bit of God´s artistic workmanship. Man can do his best to imitate what he sees, but only God can put these paintings to life. Only He can add movement, can add true texture. God´s artistic endeavours are the inspiration for every other artist, whether they admit it or not. Looking at these waterfalls, I was overcome with how great, how mighty, and how powerful the God I serve is.
After a long day at the park, we headed back to the hotel for an early dinner. Later, Melanie, Sally, Molly and I took a walk down the city center to a little pizzeria for a couple of drinks. Melanie and I ordered a glass of wine, and we were shocked to find out that a glass of wine, at this pizzeria, meant half a bottle each. I guess their glass sizes are just a bit larger! Needless to say, we hung out there for a while before turning in before midnight (those beds were truly magical!).
On Sunday we had the great opportunity to visit the Gurani tribe, which is one of the indigenous people in Argentina. This was one of my favorite parts of the trip because it exposed me to an entirely different people group of the country. To get to their community, we had to take a sand dune truck, similar to the one I took in Uruguay. Getting off of the paved roads and into the dirt, the first sign of the Gurani community was their bilingual school. Here, the kids learn in Gurani and, a recent addition, Spanish. We also passed a small pond area where some of the women were washing clothes and some children bathed.
One of the tribe members served as our guide. Although he wore a t-shirt and shorts, he was not without tribal characteristics, including jewelry and bare feet. Our first stop was at a typical house/hut, where a local woman had prepared a typical potato snack for us. Next, our guide showed us several traps the tribe used to use for animals. I was amazed at how functional these traps were for only being created out of natural material. We were then treated to a performance of several songs by some of the community kids. The band was comprised of rainsticks being pounded into the dirt, one guitar, and a couple maracas. Although I understood nothing of what they were singing, it was definitely a unique experience. At the end of our visit, we were invited to shop in their market, which was filled with handmade items the women work on daily. These are my favorite kinds of shops!
For the three days we had in Iguazu, we certainly were able to cover a lot. I was extremely thankful we did not have to take a 20 hour bus ride back to Buenos Aires, but instead got to take a short, 2 hour plane ride, arriving in plenty of time to finish my homework...ha!
I have two days of down time before I head out on my last trip in Argentina. This time I will be going to the Northwestern provinces of Salta and Jujuy.
Until then!
Around 9am we arrived in Las Posadas where we boarded a smaller bus to shuttle us to an estancia, or the equivalent of farm, more or less. There had been a lot of talk about getting an incredible breakfast, so we were all excited to avoid the bus food. We were welcomed by the "lady of the estancia" who brought us to a large patio dining area. They already had the parilla going for lunch later on. For breakfast, we were served maté cocido (the tea-bag form of maté usually drank from a gourd), and some homemade sweet-potato-like pastries which were covered sugar crystals. Some were more flaky and crispy than others, but they all had a fabulous wood-fired oven taste.
After breakfast, we were introduced to the gauchos who led us to the cattle stables. They demonstrated a bit of their daily activities with the cows which included wrangling, giving vaccinations, weighing, and washing. I guess I had never thought about cows needing to bathe before, so it was quite a surprise to see this actually happen. There was a trough filled with non-potable, soapy water. The cows followed the path leading to the trough and then kerplunked their massive bodies in to the water, very unhappily, I might add. Some of these cows tried everything they could to run away from bath time, but the gauchos had designed a maze so tightly that there was literally no space for them to turn themselves around once in line.
Lunch was served all too soon after breakfast, and it was none of than asado. Now, it's safe to say that I've had my share of asado in my time here, but I have never tasted meat so fresh as this! There was definitely still a cow flavor to most of the pieces, and there is no doubt in my mind that at one point, these cows had bathed with the ones we saw that day. The estancia we were at was not a slaughter house, but I do think they get some of the meat back once it has been sent away. Aside from asado, we had some chorizo, salad, and fruit in typical Argentine fashion.
After a little time to enjoy the land of the estancia and a quick wave to Paraguay across the river, we hopped back in our bus and headed to see the Jesuit ruins. It was pretty cool to walk in such an ancient civilization. Unfortunately, I didn't hear much of the history of it, such as the decline of the people and the end of the era. I think our group in general was still exhausted from traveling all night before and had not gotten the chance to shower yet.
From Posadas we had a 4 hour bus ride to our hotel in Iguazu, and I think we slept the whole way there, dreaming of a hot shower and a change of clothes. I was really excited to experience an Argentine hotel, and I was definitely not disappointed. As we waited in the lobby to check in, we were served a refreshing fruit smoothie. Melanie and I had a room together, and from what we heard from our other friends, we apparently got some special treatment! Two beds, somewhere between the size of a twin and full, a cute living area, big tv, clean bathrooms, and a tea/mate kettle. I don´t know why we were all so excited to be staying in a hotel, its not like we live in trashy places in Buenos Aires. I guess there was just something about being treated a step closer to royalty. We enjoyed a buffet dinner, unlike the buffets I´ve been to in the US. This one had plenty of meat choices and more appetizer like foods than actual side-dishes. Our program director suggested we get to bed a little earlier as the following day we would be out all day. She didn´t need to do much to convince us about that however, we were really looking forward to sleeping in those slightly larger beds!
We had been told the breakfast buffet was an "American" breakfast, complete with eggs, bacon, pancakes, waffles...the works. Well, maybe our minds got ahead of us, but I do know for a fact we were promised eggs. And we did get eggs, just not the scrambled ones I thought we would be getting. As for the bacon, pancakes and waffles, well, that didn´t happen either. But enough about food.
We took a short bus ride to the Iguazu National Park, which is apparently larger than Buenos Aires itself, but there is only a small portion open to visitors. The waterfalls in Iguazu Park are shared with Brazil, but Argentina has the majority of the falls on their side. Brazil supposedly has a great view of all of the falls, but other than that, we got the better end of the deal (and I´m also jealous that I don´t have a visa to cross over to Brazil).
I can´t tell you the exact number of falls that were located in the park, because there were a ton. Each lookout was carefully planned and marked by a stamped path, giving the park an overall feel of an amusement park. As the day progressed, more and more people came, filling up the prime picture-taking spots. But despite this, the falls were absolutely incredible. I have never in my life seen water falling in such a capacity, with such force, and in such a majestic manner. And to think, this water never stops flowing! Its not something that can be turned on and off, it is just constantly running! Some of the students in the group opted to take a boat ride directly into the falls. They said it was a certainly a thrill, but it was impossible to see anything as they were blinded with water spray.
The mother of all water falls was La Garganta del Diablo, The Devil´s Throat. It was a long bridge walk out to see this, all surrounded by perfectly calm water. Suddenly, the water opened up into a giant crater allowing thousands of tons of water to be pulled by gravity into a deep abyss. When the wind picked up just slightly, any bystander on the bridge inevitably got soaked by the excess spray.
To travel is to understand a bit of God´s artistic workmanship. Man can do his best to imitate what he sees, but only God can put these paintings to life. Only He can add movement, can add true texture. God´s artistic endeavours are the inspiration for every other artist, whether they admit it or not. Looking at these waterfalls, I was overcome with how great, how mighty, and how powerful the God I serve is.
After a long day at the park, we headed back to the hotel for an early dinner. Later, Melanie, Sally, Molly and I took a walk down the city center to a little pizzeria for a couple of drinks. Melanie and I ordered a glass of wine, and we were shocked to find out that a glass of wine, at this pizzeria, meant half a bottle each. I guess their glass sizes are just a bit larger! Needless to say, we hung out there for a while before turning in before midnight (those beds were truly magical!).
On Sunday we had the great opportunity to visit the Gurani tribe, which is one of the indigenous people in Argentina. This was one of my favorite parts of the trip because it exposed me to an entirely different people group of the country. To get to their community, we had to take a sand dune truck, similar to the one I took in Uruguay. Getting off of the paved roads and into the dirt, the first sign of the Gurani community was their bilingual school. Here, the kids learn in Gurani and, a recent addition, Spanish. We also passed a small pond area where some of the women were washing clothes and some children bathed.
One of the tribe members served as our guide. Although he wore a t-shirt and shorts, he was not without tribal characteristics, including jewelry and bare feet. Our first stop was at a typical house/hut, where a local woman had prepared a typical potato snack for us. Next, our guide showed us several traps the tribe used to use for animals. I was amazed at how functional these traps were for only being created out of natural material. We were then treated to a performance of several songs by some of the community kids. The band was comprised of rainsticks being pounded into the dirt, one guitar, and a couple maracas. Although I understood nothing of what they were singing, it was definitely a unique experience. At the end of our visit, we were invited to shop in their market, which was filled with handmade items the women work on daily. These are my favorite kinds of shops!
For the three days we had in Iguazu, we certainly were able to cover a lot. I was extremely thankful we did not have to take a 20 hour bus ride back to Buenos Aires, but instead got to take a short, 2 hour plane ride, arriving in plenty of time to finish my homework...ha!
I have two days of down time before I head out on my last trip in Argentina. This time I will be going to the Northwestern provinces of Salta and Jujuy.
Until then!
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Ayacucho, the REAL Argentina
If someone said "South America," what do you visualize? Perhaps: men in ponchos, dusty roads, horses everywhere, classic Hispanic music, and a little dancing? So with those words in mind, and your own visualizations, let me take you on a trip to Ayacucho.
Mary invited me to go to her pueblo, Ayacucho, along with Nacho, Loli and Lean. This past weekend, Ayacucho hosted its annual Fiesta Nacional del Ternero, which when directly translated is the "National Calf Festival." Ayacucho is one, if not THE, agricultural capitals of Argentina. The 4 hour drive alone proved that, as all I could see looking out my window were fields upon fields of soy beans, corn, and cows. Basically, this festival was about celebrating the traditional heritage of Argentina.
Arriving at my "grandmas" house, we quickly unpacked the few things we had brought and got ready to head down to the horse show. The venue for the horse show resembled that of a fairground arena. A large, fenced-in field (really, dirt), was outlined with massive amounts of people enjoying the day. Large groups of friends and family sat around sipping mate and eating asado, which was available in every direction one could look. Many of the men were dressed in full gaucho attire, consisting of riding boots (or alpagatas- the original TOMS), baggier cloth pants, button down shirt with a colorful scarf, large metalic belt, and to top it all off, a beret. Oh! Every gaucho carries a falcon (knife). And these arent the butter knives you find in your kitchen cutlery drawer, these huge, silver plated knives intended to cut meat...or horses...or people. Luckily, I only saw people using the knives to cut slices of asado, but apparently there had been several drunken fights which resulted in the knives being pulled on one another.
There were two main horse events we watched. The first was a series of little barrel races against three competitors. I do not have a very good horse vocabulary, so forgive me for not being able to describe this well. Groups of three continued to compete, and one by one the competitors were knocked out. In the end, the winner won a sum of money. The second event was comparable to bull riding. I do not remember the name in Spanish so I will just call it "man versus horse." Three poles were distantly spaced across the field, with each station having a group of about 6 or 7 men running it. When the bell rang, one brave gaucho and one untamed horse were unchained from the pole. The gaucho's goal was to remain on the horse until the next bell rang (maybe about a minute or two) signaling his success. I was surprised at the number of men who were able to remain on the horse. There were definitely quite a few instances that I thought where I thought there'd be an injury, but from what I saw, everyone walked away unharmed. After the gaucho's minute (or two) were up, two more men would ride alongside of the untamed horse and very swiftly grabbed the gaucho, letting the wild horse run free. I laughed as this horse usually continued to buck, thinking there was still someone on his back.
While many families left after the horse events, our family stuck around for an asado at Mary's former neighbor's (Andres) campsite. Andres has his own asado company, so this meat was very well done (and also my second asado of the day, as Nacho had bought some from a stand for lunch). I don't think Andres knew very much english, if any at all, so he didn't talk much with me, even after Mary made me provoke him by telling him North Carolina has better lamb. What do I know about that??
We hung out at the campsite for a couple of hours, but we didn't leave before I learned how to drink wine out of a bag. According to Mary, this is a traditional Argentine thing to do, and it is truly a great art. You always have to grab the bag from the bottom, never holding it at the top or it could break. Next, you hold the bag close to your mouth at an angle, and slowly pull away as the wine squirts to the back of your throat. Bringing the wine bag close to your mouth again, the true art is closing your mouth without getting and stopping the wine flow without getting any of it on you. Mary and Nacho are masters at this, but I must say, with such great teachers, I am quickly learning. Everyone else at the campsite seemed to get a kick out of watching the girl from the United States drink wine from a bag. Ha!
After leaving Andres' asado, we briefly went back to grandma's house for a couple empanadas and a quick change of clothes. Then we headed over to a friend of Mary's for, as I'm sure you can guess.... another asado. We pulled up to the house we thought the party was at, but as we approached the garage, Mary and Loli began to second guess themselves. We stood awkwardly out front for a good with Mary and Loli trying to convince Nacho to enter first, just in case it really was the wrong house and we embarrassed ourselves- at least Nacho would be the first! Luckily, someone from the party came out and we realized we were, after all, in the right place.
The party was okay. There didn't seem to be that many people there, and there was definitely no dancing, which I was greatly upset by. I did meet a lot of new people, which is always fun. One group of girls thought it would be fun to come up with a bunch of sentences in English and then have me translate them in Spanish to check my skills. That was fun.... for the first twenty minutes. Although, I was pretty impressed with my translating skills!
After this party was yet another party, however we never made it there. We headed back to grandma's house way before the Argentine night-life kicked in, but I was ok with that. Translating and processing in a different language really takes a lot out of you! Sunday morning, we took our time waking up and eating breakfast before heading down to see the parade. It had started at 9:30, but when we got there around 12:30, I was shocked to see it still in procession. Lots of gauchos showcasing their horses, followed by "gauchos-in-training," maté floats, and artisanal floats annnnd more horses. The people love their horses.
We followed up the parade with....asado. The local firemen had cooked up a bunch of meat so we bought enough for the five of us to enjoy a picnic in the backyard. After lunch, and a little siesta, we headed back to the main stadium to watch a few more horse races. It was an incredibly beautiful Sunday afternoon and so sweet to spend it in the company of my family.
Taking these trips with my family really solidifies and builds the relationship I have with them. I really do have two sets of parents, but in a totally functional way. Lean keeps trying to get me to say that him and Loli are the best parents, but everyone knows you can't make a kid decide!
I loved experiencing Ayacucho, the "real" Argentina. I loved being "christened" as an Argentine. I loved talking with grandma and walking around the streets Mary talks about so fondly. Oh, and of course... asado.
Mary invited me to go to her pueblo, Ayacucho, along with Nacho, Loli and Lean. This past weekend, Ayacucho hosted its annual Fiesta Nacional del Ternero, which when directly translated is the "National Calf Festival." Ayacucho is one, if not THE, agricultural capitals of Argentina. The 4 hour drive alone proved that, as all I could see looking out my window were fields upon fields of soy beans, corn, and cows. Basically, this festival was about celebrating the traditional heritage of Argentina.
Arriving at my "grandmas" house, we quickly unpacked the few things we had brought and got ready to head down to the horse show. The venue for the horse show resembled that of a fairground arena. A large, fenced-in field (really, dirt), was outlined with massive amounts of people enjoying the day. Large groups of friends and family sat around sipping mate and eating asado, which was available in every direction one could look. Many of the men were dressed in full gaucho attire, consisting of riding boots (or alpagatas- the original TOMS), baggier cloth pants, button down shirt with a colorful scarf, large metalic belt, and to top it all off, a beret. Oh! Every gaucho carries a falcon (knife). And these arent the butter knives you find in your kitchen cutlery drawer, these huge, silver plated knives intended to cut meat...or horses...or people. Luckily, I only saw people using the knives to cut slices of asado, but apparently there had been several drunken fights which resulted in the knives being pulled on one another.
There were two main horse events we watched. The first was a series of little barrel races against three competitors. I do not have a very good horse vocabulary, so forgive me for not being able to describe this well. Groups of three continued to compete, and one by one the competitors were knocked out. In the end, the winner won a sum of money. The second event was comparable to bull riding. I do not remember the name in Spanish so I will just call it "man versus horse." Three poles were distantly spaced across the field, with each station having a group of about 6 or 7 men running it. When the bell rang, one brave gaucho and one untamed horse were unchained from the pole. The gaucho's goal was to remain on the horse until the next bell rang (maybe about a minute or two) signaling his success. I was surprised at the number of men who were able to remain on the horse. There were definitely quite a few instances that I thought where I thought there'd be an injury, but from what I saw, everyone walked away unharmed. After the gaucho's minute (or two) were up, two more men would ride alongside of the untamed horse and very swiftly grabbed the gaucho, letting the wild horse run free. I laughed as this horse usually continued to buck, thinking there was still someone on his back.
a gaucho and his horse
While many families left after the horse events, our family stuck around for an asado at Mary's former neighbor's (Andres) campsite. Andres has his own asado company, so this meat was very well done (and also my second asado of the day, as Nacho had bought some from a stand for lunch). I don't think Andres knew very much english, if any at all, so he didn't talk much with me, even after Mary made me provoke him by telling him North Carolina has better lamb. What do I know about that??
We hung out at the campsite for a couple of hours, but we didn't leave before I learned how to drink wine out of a bag. According to Mary, this is a traditional Argentine thing to do, and it is truly a great art. You always have to grab the bag from the bottom, never holding it at the top or it could break. Next, you hold the bag close to your mouth at an angle, and slowly pull away as the wine squirts to the back of your throat. Bringing the wine bag close to your mouth again, the true art is closing your mouth without getting and stopping the wine flow without getting any of it on you. Mary and Nacho are masters at this, but I must say, with such great teachers, I am quickly learning. Everyone else at the campsite seemed to get a kick out of watching the girl from the United States drink wine from a bag. Ha!
the pro!
After leaving Andres' asado, we briefly went back to grandma's house for a couple empanadas and a quick change of clothes. Then we headed over to a friend of Mary's for, as I'm sure you can guess.... another asado. We pulled up to the house we thought the party was at, but as we approached the garage, Mary and Loli began to second guess themselves. We stood awkwardly out front for a good with Mary and Loli trying to convince Nacho to enter first, just in case it really was the wrong house and we embarrassed ourselves- at least Nacho would be the first! Luckily, someone from the party came out and we realized we were, after all, in the right place.
The party was okay. There didn't seem to be that many people there, and there was definitely no dancing, which I was greatly upset by. I did meet a lot of new people, which is always fun. One group of girls thought it would be fun to come up with a bunch of sentences in English and then have me translate them in Spanish to check my skills. That was fun.... for the first twenty minutes. Although, I was pretty impressed with my translating skills!
After this party was yet another party, however we never made it there. We headed back to grandma's house way before the Argentine night-life kicked in, but I was ok with that. Translating and processing in a different language really takes a lot out of you! Sunday morning, we took our time waking up and eating breakfast before heading down to see the parade. It had started at 9:30, but when we got there around 12:30, I was shocked to see it still in procession. Lots of gauchos showcasing their horses, followed by "gauchos-in-training," maté floats, and artisanal floats annnnd more horses. The people love their horses.
We followed up the parade with....asado. The local firemen had cooked up a bunch of meat so we bought enough for the five of us to enjoy a picnic in the backyard. After lunch, and a little siesta, we headed back to the main stadium to watch a few more horse races. It was an incredibly beautiful Sunday afternoon and so sweet to spend it in the company of my family.
firemen serving some fresh cooked asado
Taking these trips with my family really solidifies and builds the relationship I have with them. I really do have two sets of parents, but in a totally functional way. Lean keeps trying to get me to say that him and Loli are the best parents, but everyone knows you can't make a kid decide!
I loved experiencing Ayacucho, the "real" Argentina. I loved being "christened" as an Argentine. I loved talking with grandma and walking around the streets Mary talks about so fondly. Oh, and of course... asado.
my family.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Journey to the End of the World
Probably since the first week I spent in Argentina, I knew that if I travelled nowhere else, I had to go to Ushuaia, the world's southern-most city. While the city's subtitle was compelling enough, the pictures I stumbled upon pushed my desire over the edge. Luckily, my friend Melanie had the same desire to travel to the end of the world, so this past week, Melanie and I skipped class (guilty) and spent four days in the most naturally beautiful places I have visited.
We took an early morning flight which dropped us off in Ushuaia in the early afternoon on Tuesday. It was a perfectly clear day for flying giving me an aerial taste of what I would soon be exploring. My heart was leaping up and down as I tried to maintain my composure in my seat. I imagined my heart looked something like the heart stick figures my mom likes to draw, but this one would've been jumping high in the air. I don't think I get visibly excited very often, but this was definitely one of those moments. We flew in over the Andes, which have left gaps for crystal clear lakes and ocean water. I was a little fearful of the small runway we had to land on; there was only so much concrete before the water took ownership again. But our pilot knew what he was doing, and placed us safely on the ground. Roughly 15 minutes after landing, Melanie and I had grabbed our baggage and were hopping in a taxi to our hostel (take that, American air travel!).
We made our home at the Freestyle "backpackers" Hostel. I believe this is a relatively new hostel, but everything about it was great! The facilities were extremely clean, the bathrooms had "cozy" lighting, there were heated floors, breakfast every morning, hot drinks all day, and plenty of space to hang out and meet other travelers. The upstairs lounge also had an incredible view of the port that was perfect for watching the sunset. On our first day, Melanie and I met Marion. Marion is from France, but is living and studying in Buenos Aires for a few months. As we were conveniently in the same room, we hung out with her a lot. Although she could speak English, it was a lot easier for her to speak Spanish, and of course Melanie and I need to practice more Spanish so we spoke a common second language for the majority of the weekend. A part from Marion, we met travelers from Brazil, Israel, Spain, Australia, San Francisco, and other parts of Buenos Aires. I love the cultural experience hostel stays bring and I am looking forward to seeing some of my new friends again!
As we still had a good half of a day left, one of the hostel workers (we call him "E-Man") suggested that we go on the penguin tour. Originally on the list for the following day, we took his advice and headed down to town square to sign up for the tour. We arrived in perfect time to jump on the bus that then drove about an hour away. If you've never experienced an off-road trip in a bus, I don't recommend it. The majority of the hour we spent driving was over an unpaved, rocky road, which you would think drivers would be more cautious over. Not this driver. But I guess thats all a part of the experience?
We took several stops before actually seeing penguins, which was great in curbing my car sickness. The first stop was a gorgeous lake overlook giving us a view of Chile far across the water. The second stop was merely so we could take pictures of the very interesting looking Flag Trees. At first glance, I thought these had just been damaged from too much wind in one direction, but it turns out that is just how they grow. Our next stop was at a whale boneyard, more or less. Basically, this company (run by volunteers) collects whale and dolphin carcasses and cleans them up to eventually be sold to companies and scientists for studying. Because this particular company does everything naturally, the process to cleaning one animal can take multiple years. First, they must decompose it until it reaches a skeletal form. Then, they soak the bones in rainwater and eventually boil them to get a little more fat off of them. In the end, several workers work by hand to scrap away the remaining flesh parts (this was a really smelly part of the tour). In the end, all the pieces are strewn together to recreate the complete skeletal body. This was definitely a line of work that I have never looked in to. To showcase their work, this particular company also had a small museum of whale and dolphin skeletons (at least I did something educational while skipping class!).
After leaving the whale museum/boneyard, our group of about 15 or so took a small boat 10 minutes across to the Martillo Island, better known by us as "Penguin Island." The company we took our tour with, Harberton, is the only company allowed to actually walk on this island- so we had special privileges. The penguins were everywhere! Some just hung out by the shore, playing in the water, while others sat further up on the island shedding their feathers and watching the sunset, ha! Not being much of an animal person, this was truly a cool experience. We even got to see an Emperor Penguin, which usually live further south, closer to Antarctica. This one apparently was a younger penguin who didn't know the waters so well yet, so he got "lost" and wound up hanging out with a different type of penguins for a few days. I cannot believe how close we got to them, it was very hard not to reach out and touch them, however, we were warned that they might "beak" us. We were also told to contain our excitement, so we took out our excitement by taking way too many pictures of these little guys. We left the island just narrowly escaping the collision of two rainstorms, and headed back to the estancia for a little bit of tea before driving an hour back to our hostel for a little pasta dinner.
I think day two was my favorite. Melanie, Marion (our new friend from France) and I headed up to the Tierra del Fuego National Park to spend the day hiking. I've said it a lot about this trip, but it repeatedly proves itself again: I never know where I'm going- rather, I never know for sure what I'm getting myself in to. Hiking through this park, I had no idea I was about to experience the most incredible, natural beauty I have ever seen. I rarely use the term "breath-taking" for fear of devauling it, but there really is no other phrase to describe where we found ourselves.
We got off the bus around 11:15 and aimed to pick up the return bus at either 5 or 7pm, depending on our pace. The beginning of the trail had us hiking through a forest, one I imagine would be the inspiration for movies wishing to create a magical forest land (a lot of the scenery in Ushuaia reminded me of Disney movies, and I've heard Walt Disney actually spent some time in the Patagonia regions of Argentina...). The trees stood tall, with enough spacing to allow adequate sun to shine on the grassy ground cover, which was a vibrant green color. While our trek was just beginning, and our energy was running high, our pace quickly carried us forward, following the yellow guide posts along the way. When the trees cleared, the three of us came face to face with my favorite view, and one we would walk alongside for a large part of our journey: water. If you know me, you know I am absolutely enthralled by any water scene. But this was a place that a very small percentage of the population ever gets to see, and I could not get enough of it. I repeatedly asked myself, "Who sees this???" There I was, at the end of the world, in a park only seen by a handful of people gazing upon the most incredible scenery I could ever imagine. The vast ocean, embedded between the tail end of the Andes (but no less impressive), was devoid of contamination leaving it with a pristinely clear hue with the only addition of color being the perfect reflections of the mountains and sky. The only form of civilization located here was the very last post office in the world (although I can't imagine there's much incoming or outgoing mail). After getting my passport stamped with a cool "Ushuaia: Fin del Mundo" stamp for 10 pesos, we continued on our hike.
As we went on, I kept my gaze remained to the left keeping an eye on any change of scenery with in the ocean and the mountains. Occasionally we came across an overlook in the hike, making it impossible to stop taking pictures. We tried to capture it all on film, but the truth is, unless you were there, there is no way to possible appreciate the pictures we took. About 2.5 hours into our hike, we stopped for a "lunch" break of leftover bread and an apple (we weren't exactly prepared).
After lunch, and refueled with energy, I jumped down a small ledge in the path only to find I had startled a wild horse back into the woods! Being a little more cautious, we looked around the corner and found two horses grazing in the field, enjoying the day.
As our hike progressed, we dodged a few rain drops, our conversations got shorter and we were left with our own thoughts. The view changed to mainly mountains decorated in fall colors with little streams here and there, and, when we followed the map right, there were secluded lagoons. I have never felt so tiny in my life. Who was I thin this world, but a tiny, tiny speck of flesh. And yet, God has cared enough to design me, and call me by name, giving me a purpose and a point in breathing. This was the part of our hike of pure awe and thanksgiving to my Heavenly Father and Creator.
Now, through my awe and thanksgiving, I started feeling the sheer amount of time we had been hiking, and I began to notice the sun making it's descent. We only had a couple more overlooks to catch before we had to meet the last bus. We continued to follow the yellow guides (which at times disappeared), but just as I began to worry about our location, I was reassured of being on the right track. The final destination of our hike brought us to the end of Route 3, which as it's beginnings in Alaska (or the end, depending on how you're looking at it). With Rocky's theme song playing in our heads, we had reached the finish line...12 kilometers later (8 miles approx). All by foot. Let that number sink in a bit. Because thats.... A LOT.
It was about 6:30, so we had to wait for a 30 more minutes for our bus to come. But that was plenty of time, in conjunction with the setting sun, to realize just how cold the end of the world was. Besides the three of us, there was another couple waiting to be picked up, which also reassured me we were in the right place. However, their bus came first, and the poor lady was so sweet, she was so hesitant to get on the bus, not wanting to leave us alone in the middle of nowhere. But their driver reassured her, and us, that we would have a ride in 15 minutes. This kind woman gave us one last, sorrowful look (and later made the driver stop our closely following bus to make sure we were in there). Nice people do exist. But needless to say, I had never been happier to see our bus come for us. A hike above all hikes, above all experiences. I only wish my pictures did the journey justice.
Day three was a day of just bumming around, after we clearly had used all our energy the day before. It was good to explore the actual city of Ushuaia a bit, but there is really not much one can see, or really do. However, it was a much needed break before our next adventure: Hiking the glacier.
Well rested, Melanie and I were ready to take on the Martiel Glacier. At first glance, this mountain looked nothing more than a snowy peak, however it was indeed a glacier of which a large majority of Argentina's water is gathered. We had been told that the view of Ushuaia from the top was magnificent, so we were thankful the cloudy weather had cleared from the day before... except for one, intrusive rain cloud hovering above the glacier. Seriously, there were absolutely no other clouds in the sky, but being our last full day, we had to hope in the constantly changing weather Ushuaia is known for and we began our trek.
On of our hostel roommates, Mikel from Spain, told us he hiked from the mountain all the way up. So of course, if he could do it, so could we. We took a taxi to the base of the mountain, which brought us face to face with the massive body of rock it is. We opted to pay 68 pesos to take the ski lift up only a very small portion of the way. At this point, it had begun to rain, and the experienced hikers that we are (note sarcasm) had only dressed in jeans, a pair of socks, tennis shoes, and a few layers of shirts and jackets. We admitted we would undoubtedly be getting pneumonia (sorry Mom), but of course, it was all part of the experience. Thankfully, my host family had leant me a pair of gloves and a hat, but Melanie had neither.
Seated in our chair lift and facing our glacier, the rain, propelled by an awful wind, proceeded to freeze our faces and introduced us to that uncomfortable burning, yet freezing, feeling in our legs. Melanie and I were both questioning Mikel's all to daring idea to hike this mountain and we began to like the idea of getting off at the top of the ski lift, looking up for a few moments, and then riding the lift back down.
But despite my frozen state, my adventurous spirit and curiosity got the best of me. I did not come to the End of the World to simply look at this glacier. We embarked on this adventure, and now we had to finish climbing. Convincing ourselves of our abilities, we denied that we were already frozen, welcomed pneumonia, and set off to trace the trail to the top.
We first passed through a forest of leaf-less trees, which looked more like ragged sticks growing out of the ground (and would've been great for a Wizard of Oz forest scene). Leaving the forest, we followed the sign to the left pointing us in the direction of Martiel Glacier. We paused as a strong gust of wind nearly knocked us off the bridge we had to cross and briefly read an informative sign telling us that the part of the hike we were about to embark on as level "difficult." But words and warnings mean nothing until you test their validity yourself.
The trail was lined with rocks, and for a while, it was clear where those had traveled us stepped. The weather started to change and the wind got stronger, the rain turning in to a mixture of snow and ice pellets. My eyes began to water and then intensely burn from getting my makeup mixed in there, making it virtually impossible for me to see for a while. We paused behind a giant rock to regroup, as we were miserable, yet continued to laugh at what lie before us.
We continued on, finding ourselves in a vertical climb that appeared to have never been trekked before (what happened to our yellow guide??). There was one other couple, who at this point were very ant-like, but we looked to them as a point of reference. Eventually we caught up to half of the pair, as her husband had gone on ahead to investiage the rest of the route. This part was seemingly impossible. Melanie's shoes had very little traction, so she was literally crawling on the rocks. As we were at our lowest (figuratively) moment, we took a a second to evaluate our situation and whether or not it was worth it, or feasible to continue. It seemed the only way to abandon our mission would be to slide on our butts all the way back down. We seriously debated backing down, but that glacier was so close and I knew I was going to regret not making it to the top, so we carried on.
Following what the man a couple feet in front of us was doing, there appeared to be an actual marked path we had miss and should have been on all along. After leaving one casualty water bottle behind, which was dramatically noted as "not worth it!" we pressed forward. The designated trail made the going a little easier, but the letting up of typical mountainous weather really saved us.
Despite our doubts, Melanie and I finally made it to the base of the glacier, and our pride could not have been greater. Of course, being on a mountain, I tried to yodel in celebration, but surprisingly heard no echo. We turned around to reflect on our steps and we met the most incredible view looking down upon Ushuaia, which still had sunshine and blue skies blanketing. Once again, I felt like the tiniest ant amongst goliath mountains, valleys, and glaciers- but what an incredibly humbling feeling. I am nothing, but yet something so important to God. I can't get over that.
After taking some victory pictures, and spirits lifted, we headed back down the mountain (this time following all the right signs!). However, when we got back to the ski lift dock, the worker kindly informed us that, while he hoped we enjoyed our hike, we would have to walk the rest of the way down. The wind was too strong, and as a safety measure, the lift had been closed. Go figure.
Walking down was more like running, due to the nature of the incline, but at least the weather was in our favor this time. Once at the bottom, we took one more look at where we had come from, and decided a pizza was well-deserved.
We conquered the Martiel Glacier.
I apologize for such a lengthy entry, but the adventures were too exciting to keep from you! So if you stuck with it, you're amazing! This weekend, I'm headed a bit west to the Mendoza area. So until then...
-Courtney
We took an early morning flight which dropped us off in Ushuaia in the early afternoon on Tuesday. It was a perfectly clear day for flying giving me an aerial taste of what I would soon be exploring. My heart was leaping up and down as I tried to maintain my composure in my seat. I imagined my heart looked something like the heart stick figures my mom likes to draw, but this one would've been jumping high in the air. I don't think I get visibly excited very often, but this was definitely one of those moments. We flew in over the Andes, which have left gaps for crystal clear lakes and ocean water. I was a little fearful of the small runway we had to land on; there was only so much concrete before the water took ownership again. But our pilot knew what he was doing, and placed us safely on the ground. Roughly 15 minutes after landing, Melanie and I had grabbed our baggage and were hopping in a taxi to our hostel (take that, American air travel!).
We made our home at the Freestyle "backpackers" Hostel. I believe this is a relatively new hostel, but everything about it was great! The facilities were extremely clean, the bathrooms had "cozy" lighting, there were heated floors, breakfast every morning, hot drinks all day, and plenty of space to hang out and meet other travelers. The upstairs lounge also had an incredible view of the port that was perfect for watching the sunset. On our first day, Melanie and I met Marion. Marion is from France, but is living and studying in Buenos Aires for a few months. As we were conveniently in the same room, we hung out with her a lot. Although she could speak English, it was a lot easier for her to speak Spanish, and of course Melanie and I need to practice more Spanish so we spoke a common second language for the majority of the weekend. A part from Marion, we met travelers from Brazil, Israel, Spain, Australia, San Francisco, and other parts of Buenos Aires. I love the cultural experience hostel stays bring and I am looking forward to seeing some of my new friends again!
As we still had a good half of a day left, one of the hostel workers (we call him "E-Man") suggested that we go on the penguin tour. Originally on the list for the following day, we took his advice and headed down to town square to sign up for the tour. We arrived in perfect time to jump on the bus that then drove about an hour away. If you've never experienced an off-road trip in a bus, I don't recommend it. The majority of the hour we spent driving was over an unpaved, rocky road, which you would think drivers would be more cautious over. Not this driver. But I guess thats all a part of the experience?
We took several stops before actually seeing penguins, which was great in curbing my car sickness. The first stop was a gorgeous lake overlook giving us a view of Chile far across the water. The second stop was merely so we could take pictures of the very interesting looking Flag Trees. At first glance, I thought these had just been damaged from too much wind in one direction, but it turns out that is just how they grow. Our next stop was at a whale boneyard, more or less. Basically, this company (run by volunteers) collects whale and dolphin carcasses and cleans them up to eventually be sold to companies and scientists for studying. Because this particular company does everything naturally, the process to cleaning one animal can take multiple years. First, they must decompose it until it reaches a skeletal form. Then, they soak the bones in rainwater and eventually boil them to get a little more fat off of them. In the end, several workers work by hand to scrap away the remaining flesh parts (this was a really smelly part of the tour). In the end, all the pieces are strewn together to recreate the complete skeletal body. This was definitely a line of work that I have never looked in to. To showcase their work, this particular company also had a small museum of whale and dolphin skeletons (at least I did something educational while skipping class!).
cleaning whale bones
After leaving the whale museum/boneyard, our group of about 15 or so took a small boat 10 minutes across to the Martillo Island, better known by us as "Penguin Island." The company we took our tour with, Harberton, is the only company allowed to actually walk on this island- so we had special privileges. The penguins were everywhere! Some just hung out by the shore, playing in the water, while others sat further up on the island shedding their feathers and watching the sunset, ha! Not being much of an animal person, this was truly a cool experience. We even got to see an Emperor Penguin, which usually live further south, closer to Antarctica. This one apparently was a younger penguin who didn't know the waters so well yet, so he got "lost" and wound up hanging out with a different type of penguins for a few days. I cannot believe how close we got to them, it was very hard not to reach out and touch them, however, we were warned that they might "beak" us. We were also told to contain our excitement, so we took out our excitement by taking way too many pictures of these little guys. We left the island just narrowly escaping the collision of two rainstorms, and headed back to the estancia for a little bit of tea before driving an hour back to our hostel for a little pasta dinner.
I think day two was my favorite. Melanie, Marion (our new friend from France) and I headed up to the Tierra del Fuego National Park to spend the day hiking. I've said it a lot about this trip, but it repeatedly proves itself again: I never know where I'm going- rather, I never know for sure what I'm getting myself in to. Hiking through this park, I had no idea I was about to experience the most incredible, natural beauty I have ever seen. I rarely use the term "breath-taking" for fear of devauling it, but there really is no other phrase to describe where we found ourselves.
We got off the bus around 11:15 and aimed to pick up the return bus at either 5 or 7pm, depending on our pace. The beginning of the trail had us hiking through a forest, one I imagine would be the inspiration for movies wishing to create a magical forest land (a lot of the scenery in Ushuaia reminded me of Disney movies, and I've heard Walt Disney actually spent some time in the Patagonia regions of Argentina...). The trees stood tall, with enough spacing to allow adequate sun to shine on the grassy ground cover, which was a vibrant green color. While our trek was just beginning, and our energy was running high, our pace quickly carried us forward, following the yellow guide posts along the way. When the trees cleared, the three of us came face to face with my favorite view, and one we would walk alongside for a large part of our journey: water. If you know me, you know I am absolutely enthralled by any water scene. But this was a place that a very small percentage of the population ever gets to see, and I could not get enough of it. I repeatedly asked myself, "Who sees this???" There I was, at the end of the world, in a park only seen by a handful of people gazing upon the most incredible scenery I could ever imagine. The vast ocean, embedded between the tail end of the Andes (but no less impressive), was devoid of contamination leaving it with a pristinely clear hue with the only addition of color being the perfect reflections of the mountains and sky. The only form of civilization located here was the very last post office in the world (although I can't imagine there's much incoming or outgoing mail). After getting my passport stamped with a cool "Ushuaia: Fin del Mundo" stamp for 10 pesos, we continued on our hike.
As we went on, I kept my gaze remained to the left keeping an eye on any change of scenery with in the ocean and the mountains. Occasionally we came across an overlook in the hike, making it impossible to stop taking pictures. We tried to capture it all on film, but the truth is, unless you were there, there is no way to possible appreciate the pictures we took. About 2.5 hours into our hike, we stopped for a "lunch" break of leftover bread and an apple (we weren't exactly prepared).
After lunch, and refueled with energy, I jumped down a small ledge in the path only to find I had startled a wild horse back into the woods! Being a little more cautious, we looked around the corner and found two horses grazing in the field, enjoying the day.
As our hike progressed, we dodged a few rain drops, our conversations got shorter and we were left with our own thoughts. The view changed to mainly mountains decorated in fall colors with little streams here and there, and, when we followed the map right, there were secluded lagoons. I have never felt so tiny in my life. Who was I thin this world, but a tiny, tiny speck of flesh. And yet, God has cared enough to design me, and call me by name, giving me a purpose and a point in breathing. This was the part of our hike of pure awe and thanksgiving to my Heavenly Father and Creator.
Now, through my awe and thanksgiving, I started feeling the sheer amount of time we had been hiking, and I began to notice the sun making it's descent. We only had a couple more overlooks to catch before we had to meet the last bus. We continued to follow the yellow guides (which at times disappeared), but just as I began to worry about our location, I was reassured of being on the right track. The final destination of our hike brought us to the end of Route 3, which as it's beginnings in Alaska (or the end, depending on how you're looking at it). With Rocky's theme song playing in our heads, we had reached the finish line...12 kilometers later (8 miles approx). All by foot. Let that number sink in a bit. Because thats.... A LOT.
It was about 6:30, so we had to wait for a 30 more minutes for our bus to come. But that was plenty of time, in conjunction with the setting sun, to realize just how cold the end of the world was. Besides the three of us, there was another couple waiting to be picked up, which also reassured me we were in the right place. However, their bus came first, and the poor lady was so sweet, she was so hesitant to get on the bus, not wanting to leave us alone in the middle of nowhere. But their driver reassured her, and us, that we would have a ride in 15 minutes. This kind woman gave us one last, sorrowful look (and later made the driver stop our closely following bus to make sure we were in there). Nice people do exist. But needless to say, I had never been happier to see our bus come for us. A hike above all hikes, above all experiences. I only wish my pictures did the journey justice.
Day three was a day of just bumming around, after we clearly had used all our energy the day before. It was good to explore the actual city of Ushuaia a bit, but there is really not much one can see, or really do. However, it was a much needed break before our next adventure: Hiking the glacier.
Well rested, Melanie and I were ready to take on the Martiel Glacier. At first glance, this mountain looked nothing more than a snowy peak, however it was indeed a glacier of which a large majority of Argentina's water is gathered. We had been told that the view of Ushuaia from the top was magnificent, so we were thankful the cloudy weather had cleared from the day before... except for one, intrusive rain cloud hovering above the glacier. Seriously, there were absolutely no other clouds in the sky, but being our last full day, we had to hope in the constantly changing weather Ushuaia is known for and we began our trek.
On of our hostel roommates, Mikel from Spain, told us he hiked from the mountain all the way up. So of course, if he could do it, so could we. We took a taxi to the base of the mountain, which brought us face to face with the massive body of rock it is. We opted to pay 68 pesos to take the ski lift up only a very small portion of the way. At this point, it had begun to rain, and the experienced hikers that we are (note sarcasm) had only dressed in jeans, a pair of socks, tennis shoes, and a few layers of shirts and jackets. We admitted we would undoubtedly be getting pneumonia (sorry Mom), but of course, it was all part of the experience. Thankfully, my host family had leant me a pair of gloves and a hat, but Melanie had neither.
Seated in our chair lift and facing our glacier, the rain, propelled by an awful wind, proceeded to freeze our faces and introduced us to that uncomfortable burning, yet freezing, feeling in our legs. Melanie and I were both questioning Mikel's all to daring idea to hike this mountain and we began to like the idea of getting off at the top of the ski lift, looking up for a few moments, and then riding the lift back down.
But despite my frozen state, my adventurous spirit and curiosity got the best of me. I did not come to the End of the World to simply look at this glacier. We embarked on this adventure, and now we had to finish climbing. Convincing ourselves of our abilities, we denied that we were already frozen, welcomed pneumonia, and set off to trace the trail to the top.
We first passed through a forest of leaf-less trees, which looked more like ragged sticks growing out of the ground (and would've been great for a Wizard of Oz forest scene). Leaving the forest, we followed the sign to the left pointing us in the direction of Martiel Glacier. We paused as a strong gust of wind nearly knocked us off the bridge we had to cross and briefly read an informative sign telling us that the part of the hike we were about to embark on as level "difficult." But words and warnings mean nothing until you test their validity yourself.
The trail was lined with rocks, and for a while, it was clear where those had traveled us stepped. The weather started to change and the wind got stronger, the rain turning in to a mixture of snow and ice pellets. My eyes began to water and then intensely burn from getting my makeup mixed in there, making it virtually impossible for me to see for a while. We paused behind a giant rock to regroup, as we were miserable, yet continued to laugh at what lie before us.
We continued on, finding ourselves in a vertical climb that appeared to have never been trekked before (what happened to our yellow guide??). There was one other couple, who at this point were very ant-like, but we looked to them as a point of reference. Eventually we caught up to half of the pair, as her husband had gone on ahead to investiage the rest of the route. This part was seemingly impossible. Melanie's shoes had very little traction, so she was literally crawling on the rocks. As we were at our lowest (figuratively) moment, we took a a second to evaluate our situation and whether or not it was worth it, or feasible to continue. It seemed the only way to abandon our mission would be to slide on our butts all the way back down. We seriously debated backing down, but that glacier was so close and I knew I was going to regret not making it to the top, so we carried on.
Following what the man a couple feet in front of us was doing, there appeared to be an actual marked path we had miss and should have been on all along. After leaving one casualty water bottle behind, which was dramatically noted as "not worth it!" we pressed forward. The designated trail made the going a little easier, but the letting up of typical mountainous weather really saved us.
Despite our doubts, Melanie and I finally made it to the base of the glacier, and our pride could not have been greater. Of course, being on a mountain, I tried to yodel in celebration, but surprisingly heard no echo. We turned around to reflect on our steps and we met the most incredible view looking down upon Ushuaia, which still had sunshine and blue skies blanketing. Once again, I felt like the tiniest ant amongst goliath mountains, valleys, and glaciers- but what an incredibly humbling feeling. I am nothing, but yet something so important to God. I can't get over that.
After taking some victory pictures, and spirits lifted, we headed back down the mountain (this time following all the right signs!). However, when we got back to the ski lift dock, the worker kindly informed us that, while he hoped we enjoyed our hike, we would have to walk the rest of the way down. The wind was too strong, and as a safety measure, the lift had been closed. Go figure.
Walking down was more like running, due to the nature of the incline, but at least the weather was in our favor this time. Once at the bottom, we took one more look at where we had come from, and decided a pizza was well-deserved.
We conquered the Martiel Glacier.
I apologize for such a lengthy entry, but the adventures were too exciting to keep from you! So if you stuck with it, you're amazing! This weekend, I'm headed a bit west to the Mendoza area. So until then...
-Courtney
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