Bolivia March 4, 2008
Early on Tuesday morning we waited at the hostel in San Pedro Atacama, Chile for our tour bus to pick us up at 7:30. It was late and Ted went off to see what the problem was. We didn’t worry about being separated since there were only a couple of streets in town. About 8:30 a bus came and picked us up, drove about a mile and dropped us off at the Chile border. There we had our exit stamped into our passports, loaded all our stuff onto one of three jeeps and with 16 other travelers, began our Bolivian adventure.
A few miles into Bolivia we came upon two small buildings set in the middle of nowhere. The Bolivian immigration station. Our party was composed of 17 people, some from Switzerland, from Ireland, Spain and Japan. Our jeep held us, three other Americans and one German man. The immigration man took all American passports, explaining that a police would deliver them to Uyuni, Bolivia waiting for our arrival. Traveling without our passports was a bit un-nerving for us all, but since there was nothing between us and Uyuni but empty space for the next 3 days, we didn’t worry overly.
Our driver then proceeded to start driving across the desert with nothing visible except tracks in the sand. This was our introduction to Bolivian roads, at least in the south. The first stop was at a National Park Reserve where we visited several salt lakes. One of them was green from the dissolved copper, and one was white. Three different species of Flamingos live in the salt lakes of the Atacama desert. The lakes are quite shallow and allow different types of algae and other organisisms to thrive, providing food for the flamingoes. The lakes mirror the mountains and the few scattered clouds with a wonderful brilliance.
The high altitude, the dryness and the blowing cold wind made us quite uncomfortable during most of the first day. As we continued to drive through miles and miles of dry desert, a few dwarf plants grew in patches here and there. Mostly the plants appeared slightly dead, growing a sickly yellow against the light brown of the ground and hills. We arrived at an area of active geysers and thermal pools. In the distance we could see several geysers blowing up but I couldn’t get any good pictures. Nearer to our parking lot there was one blowing smoke from the ground. A pool had been built so people could lounge in the warm waters. But eventually they had to leave the warm water and dry off in the very cold blowing air.
Driving again through miles and miles of dry land, we arrived at an area where boiling water and mud bubbled in pits, throwing yellow sulfur around some of the pits. In the distance we spotted several Vicunas grazing on the small yellow plants. Even though the landscape was barren and the mountains devoid of any living plants, the ground continually changed. From sand, to sand strewn with small rock, gravel, sand with a thin layer of gravel, back to sand. In most areas where plants did grow it appeared that they were growing around rocks where the rocks might have captured small amounts of morning dew. In other areas, a flat yellow type of plants looking almost like fungi grew in circles around the rocks. The different salt lakes have different colors depending on the concentration of minerals or algae. At the Colorado Lake (red lake) the red algae drifted back and forth with the wind while flamingoes peacefully grazed..
Finally we reached our “hotel” for the first night. The wind continued to blow and very few people ventured out to take a couple of pictures, then ran quickly back to escape the cold. A pet llama (or maybe next year’s meat) was feeding outside. She or he didn’t seem to want to be touched and no one was brave enough to try. Our beds were six to a room, meaning that the occupants of the three jeeps continued to be separated, meeting only at meals and tourist stops. The blanket on each bed was folded such that it was impossible to cover both the shoulders and the feet. The communal bath was down the tile hallway making for cold feet if one should have to use it in the night. Also, electricity was only on for about three hours from seven to ten. Everyone spent a rather sleepless night, each suffering from headaches because we were over 12,000 feet up from sea level.
Day 2 we headed across more flat dry land. Spotting a few vicunas grazing or standing in the lifeless plain. Our driver explained that they feed in the greener areas, and then move up to avoid predation by pumas. In the museum back in Chile we discovered that the llamas are a cross between the vicuna and the alpaca done by the Indians about 14,000 years before when they found that they could capture baby animals and raise them to insure future meat and the animals cross bred naturally.
The wind has carved large rocks into unreal shapes sitting in the middle of miles of sand. One tourist stop was at a rock that resembled a tree. Some of the group climbed on the rocks while most of us were content to stand in front of them and have our pictures taken.
Back in the jeeps we drove miles through the desert, spotting lakes filled with eating flamingoes. Arriving in a small village, devoid of either trees or people, we stopped for a lunch of soup, bread, rice, chopped wieners and coke, a typical meal.
Now the landscape changed again, through small green valleys filled with herds of llamas, up through volcanic rock and barren patches.
Small adobe houses appeared sometimes and lots of short rock walls, the rocks just lay upon one another, no mortar holding them in place. On one hillside it looked like a map had been drawn with short walls forming rectangles or very small territories, matching those in the valleys. Our driver told us they were Incan, but it was a bit hard to believe that unmortared walls have remained in perfect condition for five hundred years. But maybe. Small creeks meandered through the green valleys and large herds of llamas grazed. Most of the llamas had red ribbons wrapped around their ears and some wore ribbons stuck in their backs. There are some black, some white, some white and brown and some brown llamas, giving the whole herd a wonderful variety of the grazing animals.
One stop in a very small town built at the foot of some rock palisades seemed completely empty, as did most of the villages we passed. Our driver explained that the people of the village were either out with the llamas (we saw two) or minding their small crops of Quenoa bushes, gluten free grain that comes in three colors, red, yellow or green. Our jeep stopped to examine some of the low Quenoa plants.
Now we began to see sheep among the herds of lamas. Sheep were introduced a few years back and because they are cheaper to raise, more and more sheep’s wool is replacing the traditional lama and alpaca sweaters and shawls for sale by local women.
Now the areas were greener and on several occasions we had to drive across small streams. One time we drove up the stream until the road again moved onto dry land. Suddenly the landscape changed to an enormous salt flat, the largest in the world.
For Millions of years, this area of South America was covered by a salt sea. As the Andes were pushed up and the climate dried out over successive periods, layers of salt were deposited until the entire sea had finally dried up leaving the world’s largest salt shaker; pure sodium chloride covering an area of almost 5000 sq. mi, and some 400 ft. thick. This is the Salar de Uyuni, merely the largest of several huge salt pans left behind by the receding sea. While the Salar is irregular, it is roughly 50 by 100 miles along its perimeter, giving one some perspective on its huge size.
We drove for miles alongside the flat salt pan, finally arriving at the hotel for the night. This hotel is only three years old, has 27 rooms each having six beds and private baths. A suicide shower provides warm water and the electricity is on for four hours. Big windows face out looking at the back of a small village and mile upon mile of flat, white salt.
After breakfast, we drove out onto the salt. The three jeeps occasionally drove through shallow salt lakes produced by recent rains, reflecting the snow topped mountains along the edges of the salt flat, but. for the most part, the pan was dry and blindingly white. Isolated islands in the salt are home to small hare-like animals, Vizchayas, now beginning to evolve into separate species. At one, we stopped while tourists climbed up for the view of an ocean of white salt. The whole island was covered with large saguaro cactus and the buildings had been built out of ancient coral. The outside tables were salt blocks. On one building the chimney was a tall cactus skeleton. Because of the completely flat and white salt pan, photo perspective shots were amazing and the various groups of travelers spent many minutes posing. In one photo, Jesse. The American girl traveling with us, sits cross legged on the salt while a tiny Bryan and an equally tiny Joe appear to stand on her outstretched hands.
Now our jeeps continued across the Salar until we reached the “Salt Hotel”, a building made entirely out of salt blocks, standing in the middle of miles and miles of salt. Inside, the tables, the beds, the walls and walks were made of salt blocks, clearly showing the layers of salt sandwiched between layers of brown sediment. Sculptures filled the hall ways with even a standing clock, a salty Big Ben, all carved from salt.
Next mounds of white salt appeared, the salt mines of Bolivia. Trucks haul the salt to other small villages where it is loaded onto trains and taken to Ororu for processing. At one village where the train line begins, villagers sell small bowls and other small items made of salt. This was the first village we had seen that had people walking about and selling tourist items. But again, not a single sign of anything green, just brown adobe huts, a few television antennas leaning away from the wind, and brown ground with white mounds of salt with several houses made of salt blocks.
About 12 miles from the mines, Uyuni, 12,000 ft. above sea level, appeared and the end of the tour. It was Thursday and the weekly market with women selling everything from school supplies, clothes, lotions and soap, skirts and fruit, filled the main street. Bolivian women in colorful pleated skirts, aprons, bowler hats, long wool stockings, long braids hanging down their backs sit by their wares or shop for supplies. All the women that sell produce wear blue aprons over their clothes. Young Bolivian women don’t wear the old traditional clothes but have changed to Western clothes.
We were unloaded on a street corner after the driver drove by the immigration office (closed until 2:30) and left to fend for ourselves. While Ted went in one direction to see one Hostel, Joe (another American) went in the other direction to check out another. Finally, we decided on Joe’s hostel and dragged all our belongings a block and a half to the Hostel Marith, a very nice place.
After dumping all our stuff in the rooms, we headed back in a group of five, to hopefully find our passports waiting. All the information that we had gotten off of the internet, the photos without glasses, the copies of credit cards, etc. proved un-necessary. They stamped our passports, and after filling out a small form and paying our $100 each, we had our visas. So easy!
Now we had time to wander around, taking pictures, eating lunch and finding our bus or train schedules. Johann, the German man with us, took a train to Argentina to continue his trip. The three other Americans were going north to work in an Animal Reserve for two weeks before returning to Colorado. We bought our bus tickets to La Paz.
Near the bus terminal there was a street of stalls that sold nothing but used clothes. Shops for the poorer or toiling class.
Everywhere dogs roam, all seemingly in good health with some wearing collars. Big dogs with obvious German Shepherd heritage, little curly poodle like dogs, shaggy small dogs, even a few puppies, all well behaved but follow tourists around hoping for a hand-out. At dinner we watched as a tourist put her coat on the floor by her chair so a small puppy could lie down. After it rearranged the coat it rolled off while trying to lick it’s hind leg, it settled down for a warm and comfortable nap. It was still sleeping when we left at 9:00 p.m.
Friday morning the street was empty of the market people and it was easy to believe the city is home to only 14,000 people. The main industry of Uyuni is the many tourists that walk through the park or find their way to the half dozen internet places. Every tour company that has an office in San Pedro de Atacama has one here. Tours back to Chile or tours around the salt flats of Bolivia keep the industry well and happy. While eating lunch at an outdoor café, we were spotted by two Israeli girls that we had met in Buenos Aires over a month and a half ago. After catching up on the different trips each of us had taken, they left to ready themselves for the 3 day, 2 nights tour that we had just finished. A very interesting tour and one that we are so glad we had the chance to see.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Chile
Chile Feb 20, 2008
We left Buenos Aires in the middle of a heat wave, and were mighty glad to leave. Our “room” at the Alkimista Hostel wasn’t much more than a glorified closet with a small window opening out into a stifling airwell. The small fan we’d been given was barely adequate to move the air around and for a week we sweltered.
Our 22 hour trip west by bus took us through the Pampas of Argentina, across the Andes and into the capital of Chile, Santiago. The landscape was incredibly beautiful through the Andes, twisted rocks, switch back turns, small valleys all topped by snow capped peaks. Near the Chilean border we caught a glimpse of Mt. Aconcagua, the highest peak of the Andes at 22,800 ft. above sea level. At the border we first lined up for the Argentine exit stamp, then the Chilean entry stamp then back onto the bus. There, we waited until finally customs had room for us. As we lined up the entire luggage was hauled off the bus, loaded onto a conveyer belt and passed through an x-ray machine. Then each of us was called forward to unlock our luggage so the customs people could paw through our underwear, shake each bag, etc. Our ostrich feathers were confiscated, for no clear reason; we repacked our bags and everything was reloaded onto the bus.
Down the other side of the Andes the road was much the same as going up. Some incredible switchbacks down the mountain. Because we went through a new tunnel, we missed seeing the “Christ of the Andes” the world famous statue which stands at the top of the old pass through the mountains. Finally we pulled into Santiago and unloaded our belongings into a taxi to the hostel, the Che Largato Hostel, conveniently located a block from the main street and the metro line, a block and a half from the supermarket, and several block from a large pedestrian street. The Hostel had once been a large single family dwelling with rooms on several floors, multiple bathrooms and a kitchen large enough to serve royalty. The reception desk was placed in what had been the garage for the horse and buggy. We walked around, Ted taking pictures of the park, the old buildings and more of the numerous statues of generals that dot all parks in South America. The most important of the generals was Bernardo O’Higgins, obviously of Irish descent, and the main street of Santiago is named for him. Another thing we’ve noticed about statues in South America is their love of Grecian and Roman statues. Even in very small towns, half clad women or Roman soldiers share space with statues of Romulus and Remus suckling or Generals of every war ever fought on the continent. But some of the names seem strange, General O’Higgins, Lord Cochran, not what I would expect in a South American country.
Though the city contains over 3 million people, it is not a particularly imposing or interesting place, seeming more like a small town. Buenos Aires it ain't.
Here began the mis-information that was to plague us for awhile. First we were told that rent paid in U.S. dollars would save us the 19% tax that Chileans had to pay. So we converted Chilean pesos to dollars. We later found out that was true only in Hostels and 5-star hotels. Then we found out that for budget hotels and guesthouses, Chilean pesos were needed, forcing us to buy pesos. Also, as of Dec 1, 2007, Bolivia requires a visa from U.S. citizens, at $100 U.S. dollars and a passport picture without glasses. All Ted’s photos have him in glasses. So we needed two one hundred dollar bills and a new photo. None of the banks here will change money for foreigners, so we had to rely on the money changers and we lost money on every conversion.
When we had arrived at the bus station we had checked our large suitcases into “Left Baggage” and needed to retrieve them before leaving for Valparaiso. Following the map we rode the metro to the bus terminal only to discover it was the wrong station. Asking directions, we boarded the metro again and backtracked to the second bus terminal in Santiago. Again it was the wrong station. Finally, across the street from bus terminal 2 we found terminal 3 and our luggage. Now we had to return to terminal 2 to catch our bus lugging all our suitcases (2 large ones, 2 small ones, Maria’s backpack, Ted’s camera bag, our laptop computer case, and at least one bag of various kinds of foodstuffs for use when the bus food was inedible.) By now, both of us were ready to abandon the large suitcases except they contain all our cold weather clothes. It was a temptation! Finally we found the correct terminal and platform for the bus to Valparaiso.
Valparaiso, one of the port cities of Chile, is a much smaller and less hurried city than Santiago. Here, rich Chilean families have summer homes built on the hills. In every direction the hills are covered with houses separated by narrow winding streets. There are sixteen “Ascensors” or small cable cars that transport citizens up the hills from the old city built at sea level. Visitors can ride up and back for free. They are quite the engineering marvel. The oldest dates from 1883 and the newest from 1916.
Our stay there was in a “guesthouse”, a lovely home built about 1910. Valparaiso suffered a severe earthquake in 1906 causing similar damage as in San Francisco, CA but didn’t get the press attention. Rebuilding, many of the old homes are similar to those built in San Francisco. The “El Rincon Marino” is one of those homes with the second floor now converted to rooms for rent. Big rooms, high ceilings, wooden floors, large windows looking out over the street and very comfortable beds.
We walked around following the main streets to the main square, the Sotomayor plaza lined by government buildings. One interspersing building of shinning glass was built inside of an old stone one, the multi-story rising above the single stone in a weird mixture of old and new. Again statues of famous generals. The next day we rode the metro a few miles north to Vina del Mar, a wealthy suburb of Valparaiso that reminded us of La Jolla, CA. Many shops, lovely park, good restaurants, lots of tourists, a very lovely little city. There Ted found a passport place and got his photo with no glasses. One large mall built on a spiral design had 17 different beauty parlors side by side. There may have been more but we didn’t feel like walking up the spiral to see. Another funny thing we saw in Chile is the outdoor telephone booths. Tiffany lamp shaped roofs set on poles. No place for Superman to change.
Returning to Valparaiso, we hauled our stuff to the bus terminal for our trip to Calama, high up in the Atacama Desert. A 22 hour ride through a high desert where absolutely nothing grows for hundreds of miles. Rain is measured in millimeters with many places not receiving any for years. Every once in awhile, there is a small patch with low tufts of grass but the whole place is completely devoid of green. Finally at Calama a small river runs through and some trees and grass grow.
Calama is an old city where the trains that transport copper from the mines can still be heard. A few years ago there had been a passenger train to the Bolivian border which ran several times a week but is now gone. Outside of the city, tour companies run tourists to the world’s largest copper mine but the real attraction is getting tourists to San Pedro de Atacama and the salt flats.
On Saturday before school starts we walked around. It seemed that everyone in town was out buying school uniforms and supplies. The pedestrian street was crowded with shoppers. And, as in Argentina, the number of babies in strollers or learning to walk is startling. Children seem to outnumber adults five to one.
We needed to buy some water and toilet paper. No matter how many blocks we walked, no SuperMarket. We did find a huge market similar to the ones in Asia where stalls offered everything from meat to car parts. Clothes, shoes, fruits, vegetables, cold weather clothes and swimming suits, but no water or toilet paper. However, there were at least 15 different pharmacies. The biggest thrill we had was a small earthquake which shook the town for about 2 seconds. Chile is extremely volcano and earthquake prone, but with a bit of luck, we’ll miss the big one.
After resting up for 2 days in Calama, an hour and a half short bus ride through part of Death Valley and the Valley of the Moon finally brought us to San Pedro de Atacama. Here, because of a fast running river, humans have been living for twelve thousand years. The Spaniards came in 1540 and found gold and copper in the surrounding area. By 1557 the small town had been made into a governmental hub for the surrounding area. In 1557 the first church was built and in 1997 it was made into a Historical Monument. The church at the town square is considered to be one of the most beautiful churches in northern Chile. It is interesting because of its age and because the ceiling is covered with cactus wood.
Basically San Pedro de Atacama is a very small town with several dirt roads, adobe houses, some maybe centuries old, that have been converted into restaurants, hotels, shops and tour agencies. Tourists roam back and forth along the main street and sometimes down one or two of the few side streets. Hotels, hostels and camping places dot side streets. There are about four mini-markets and two ATM’s. Looking around we found one pharmacy but he doesn’t carry any drugs. Hope no one gets sick. Hotels range from 5 star type establishments to basic dormitory facilities and they are all over priced, but we had met some girls from London who turned us on to the Hostel Miskanty, a brand new place where we got a double room with a queen sized bed and private bath for only about $32. This was luxury; the first private bathroom we’d had in over a month.
The sole purpose of the town today is to separate tourists from their money. Tours take visitors to salt lakes, hot thermal pools, geysers, several windswept rock formations and a star gazing tour. These are all very expensive and, after checking them out, we decided to see all those same things in Bolivia on the way to Uyuni, a much cheaper option offering 3 day 2 night trips for only $100 USD per person, all inclusive.
Stay tuned.
We left Buenos Aires in the middle of a heat wave, and were mighty glad to leave. Our “room” at the Alkimista Hostel wasn’t much more than a glorified closet with a small window opening out into a stifling airwell. The small fan we’d been given was barely adequate to move the air around and for a week we sweltered.
Our 22 hour trip west by bus took us through the Pampas of Argentina, across the Andes and into the capital of Chile, Santiago. The landscape was incredibly beautiful through the Andes, twisted rocks, switch back turns, small valleys all topped by snow capped peaks. Near the Chilean border we caught a glimpse of Mt. Aconcagua, the highest peak of the Andes at 22,800 ft. above sea level. At the border we first lined up for the Argentine exit stamp, then the Chilean entry stamp then back onto the bus. There, we waited until finally customs had room for us. As we lined up the entire luggage was hauled off the bus, loaded onto a conveyer belt and passed through an x-ray machine. Then each of us was called forward to unlock our luggage so the customs people could paw through our underwear, shake each bag, etc. Our ostrich feathers were confiscated, for no clear reason; we repacked our bags and everything was reloaded onto the bus.
Down the other side of the Andes the road was much the same as going up. Some incredible switchbacks down the mountain. Because we went through a new tunnel, we missed seeing the “Christ of the Andes” the world famous statue which stands at the top of the old pass through the mountains. Finally we pulled into Santiago and unloaded our belongings into a taxi to the hostel, the Che Largato Hostel, conveniently located a block from the main street and the metro line, a block and a half from the supermarket, and several block from a large pedestrian street. The Hostel had once been a large single family dwelling with rooms on several floors, multiple bathrooms and a kitchen large enough to serve royalty. The reception desk was placed in what had been the garage for the horse and buggy. We walked around, Ted taking pictures of the park, the old buildings and more of the numerous statues of generals that dot all parks in South America. The most important of the generals was Bernardo O’Higgins, obviously of Irish descent, and the main street of Santiago is named for him. Another thing we’ve noticed about statues in South America is their love of Grecian and Roman statues. Even in very small towns, half clad women or Roman soldiers share space with statues of Romulus and Remus suckling or Generals of every war ever fought on the continent. But some of the names seem strange, General O’Higgins, Lord Cochran, not what I would expect in a South American country.
Though the city contains over 3 million people, it is not a particularly imposing or interesting place, seeming more like a small town. Buenos Aires it ain't.
Here began the mis-information that was to plague us for awhile. First we were told that rent paid in U.S. dollars would save us the 19% tax that Chileans had to pay. So we converted Chilean pesos to dollars. We later found out that was true only in Hostels and 5-star hotels. Then we found out that for budget hotels and guesthouses, Chilean pesos were needed, forcing us to buy pesos. Also, as of Dec 1, 2007, Bolivia requires a visa from U.S. citizens, at $100 U.S. dollars and a passport picture without glasses. All Ted’s photos have him in glasses. So we needed two one hundred dollar bills and a new photo. None of the banks here will change money for foreigners, so we had to rely on the money changers and we lost money on every conversion.
When we had arrived at the bus station we had checked our large suitcases into “Left Baggage” and needed to retrieve them before leaving for Valparaiso. Following the map we rode the metro to the bus terminal only to discover it was the wrong station. Asking directions, we boarded the metro again and backtracked to the second bus terminal in Santiago. Again it was the wrong station. Finally, across the street from bus terminal 2 we found terminal 3 and our luggage. Now we had to return to terminal 2 to catch our bus lugging all our suitcases (2 large ones, 2 small ones, Maria’s backpack, Ted’s camera bag, our laptop computer case, and at least one bag of various kinds of foodstuffs for use when the bus food was inedible.) By now, both of us were ready to abandon the large suitcases except they contain all our cold weather clothes. It was a temptation! Finally we found the correct terminal and platform for the bus to Valparaiso.
Valparaiso, one of the port cities of Chile, is a much smaller and less hurried city than Santiago. Here, rich Chilean families have summer homes built on the hills. In every direction the hills are covered with houses separated by narrow winding streets. There are sixteen “Ascensors” or small cable cars that transport citizens up the hills from the old city built at sea level. Visitors can ride up and back for free. They are quite the engineering marvel. The oldest dates from 1883 and the newest from 1916.
Our stay there was in a “guesthouse”, a lovely home built about 1910. Valparaiso suffered a severe earthquake in 1906 causing similar damage as in San Francisco, CA but didn’t get the press attention. Rebuilding, many of the old homes are similar to those built in San Francisco. The “El Rincon Marino” is one of those homes with the second floor now converted to rooms for rent. Big rooms, high ceilings, wooden floors, large windows looking out over the street and very comfortable beds.
We walked around following the main streets to the main square, the Sotomayor plaza lined by government buildings. One interspersing building of shinning glass was built inside of an old stone one, the multi-story rising above the single stone in a weird mixture of old and new. Again statues of famous generals. The next day we rode the metro a few miles north to Vina del Mar, a wealthy suburb of Valparaiso that reminded us of La Jolla, CA. Many shops, lovely park, good restaurants, lots of tourists, a very lovely little city. There Ted found a passport place and got his photo with no glasses. One large mall built on a spiral design had 17 different beauty parlors side by side. There may have been more but we didn’t feel like walking up the spiral to see. Another funny thing we saw in Chile is the outdoor telephone booths. Tiffany lamp shaped roofs set on poles. No place for Superman to change.
Returning to Valparaiso, we hauled our stuff to the bus terminal for our trip to Calama, high up in the Atacama Desert. A 22 hour ride through a high desert where absolutely nothing grows for hundreds of miles. Rain is measured in millimeters with many places not receiving any for years. Every once in awhile, there is a small patch with low tufts of grass but the whole place is completely devoid of green. Finally at Calama a small river runs through and some trees and grass grow.
Calama is an old city where the trains that transport copper from the mines can still be heard. A few years ago there had been a passenger train to the Bolivian border which ran several times a week but is now gone. Outside of the city, tour companies run tourists to the world’s largest copper mine but the real attraction is getting tourists to San Pedro de Atacama and the salt flats.
On Saturday before school starts we walked around. It seemed that everyone in town was out buying school uniforms and supplies. The pedestrian street was crowded with shoppers. And, as in Argentina, the number of babies in strollers or learning to walk is startling. Children seem to outnumber adults five to one.
We needed to buy some water and toilet paper. No matter how many blocks we walked, no SuperMarket. We did find a huge market similar to the ones in Asia where stalls offered everything from meat to car parts. Clothes, shoes, fruits, vegetables, cold weather clothes and swimming suits, but no water or toilet paper. However, there were at least 15 different pharmacies. The biggest thrill we had was a small earthquake which shook the town for about 2 seconds. Chile is extremely volcano and earthquake prone, but with a bit of luck, we’ll miss the big one.
After resting up for 2 days in Calama, an hour and a half short bus ride through part of Death Valley and the Valley of the Moon finally brought us to San Pedro de Atacama. Here, because of a fast running river, humans have been living for twelve thousand years. The Spaniards came in 1540 and found gold and copper in the surrounding area. By 1557 the small town had been made into a governmental hub for the surrounding area. In 1557 the first church was built and in 1997 it was made into a Historical Monument. The church at the town square is considered to be one of the most beautiful churches in northern Chile. It is interesting because of its age and because the ceiling is covered with cactus wood.
Basically San Pedro de Atacama is a very small town with several dirt roads, adobe houses, some maybe centuries old, that have been converted into restaurants, hotels, shops and tour agencies. Tourists roam back and forth along the main street and sometimes down one or two of the few side streets. Hotels, hostels and camping places dot side streets. There are about four mini-markets and two ATM’s. Looking around we found one pharmacy but he doesn’t carry any drugs. Hope no one gets sick. Hotels range from 5 star type establishments to basic dormitory facilities and they are all over priced, but we had met some girls from London who turned us on to the Hostel Miskanty, a brand new place where we got a double room with a queen sized bed and private bath for only about $32. This was luxury; the first private bathroom we’d had in over a month.
The sole purpose of the town today is to separate tourists from their money. Tours take visitors to salt lakes, hot thermal pools, geysers, several windswept rock formations and a star gazing tour. These are all very expensive and, after checking them out, we decided to see all those same things in Bolivia on the way to Uyuni, a much cheaper option offering 3 day 2 night trips for only $100 USD per person, all inclusive.
Stay tuned.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Hunhuamaca, Jujuy, Salta, Cordoba and Rosario, Argentina
Jujuy, Feb 2, 2008
Two hours north of Salta along the road to Bolivia is the small town of San Salvador de Jujuy. The book rated it as a place to visit. It isn’t! We met a very nice couple from Alaska and traveled with them on the bus to Jujuy where we found room in the Chung King (yes, you read that right) Hotel.
The basilica church was built in 1546 and a few other old buildings date around that time. Today a small pedestrian street lined with shops offers goods for sale. A small park with the church and the old city hall are the only two old colonial buildings that are worth seeing.
Our plan was to visit Jujuy, then Huamahuaca in the north, returning south to visit Tilcara and finally return to Salta. Plans do change. The bus north was to Huamahuaca; however it stopped in Tilcara where it emptied all the passengers out.A bus to Humahuaca will be here in 20 minutes. After 2 hours it finally arrived not at the terminal where we were all waiting but a bit out of the way. We dragged our luggage (no taxis in town) down dirt and rock roads and boarded the bus which was full so we were forced to stand (another word for being thrown about) for the rest of the trip to Huamahuaca. Finally arriving during the biggest weekend of the year for tourists (“Carnival”) and almost dark, Ted set off to book hotel rooms. None available in town! Kids with backpacks wandered up and down looking for a room. There is a tent camping site which was full. Finally a friendly woman sent Ted a bit out of town, about half a mile or so, where a new hotel is under construction. They had rooms but the bathrooms aren’t finished. Shared bathrooms outside. Being high in the mountains, 9000 feet above sea level, it was quite cold. Going outside in the middle of the night to find a bathroom in freezing cold was not in my original plan, but plans do change.
After we dropped our luggage off, we strolled back to town to find food. Canned snow is the big seller during “Carnival”. Kids run through the streets squirting each other and sometimes the unwary tourist. The streets were littered with empty cans and every shop and vendor had stacks of cans to sell. The town square, with a very picturesque stone church, was filled with visitors. Next to the square are steps leading up to the Monument of Heros of Independence with many people sitting on the steps waiting for some fun to start. Several jugglers were practicing while kids ran and played. A small alcove with local crafts offered “Lama sweaters”, pots, Mate cups and other items.
On the little streets leading from the square, shops catering to tourists or restaurants sit between homes. Many of the houses have been painted and cleaned up but as with all small poor towns, many are in need of repair. We hung around for awhile, but nothing much was happening and it was getting colder and colder, so we went back to the hotel.
From Huamahuaca we took the bus back to Jujuy (had a flat tire on the way) and then another to Salta. The area around Salta lies in the foothills which are just east of the Andes. The area is high desert with canyons of incredible beauty. Rocks are pushed up, bent and fractured. Millions of years of water and wind have carved the rock into wonderful shapes. Layers of iron rich rock, sulfur, copper and other chemicals have created a painted panorama of red, brown, green, white and yellow. The landscape is very much like the Painted Desert of Arizona.
Back in Salta we took a day trip to Cachi through another set of canyons. Since it had been raining for two weeks, large streams crossed the road and in several places, washed part of the road away. This in itself isn’t bad except we were on a very winding road with deep gorges on the sides. Quite often, we were forced to stop while bulldozers, which operate 24 hours a day, cleared debris from the road in order to make it passable. The road switched back and forth, climbing up and up. At the highest point on the road we were at 12,000 feet. For some 45 miles, the road is dirt and gravel. Known as the Cuesta de la Obispo, the Bishop’s Trail, this road has got to be one of the most beautiful and exciting roller coaster rides on the planet. Once at the top, we found ourselves on a high plateau, flat for miles and miles around; high desert full of saguaros. Here the road was again paved and we drove for about an hour until we descended into the valley in which the town of Cachi lies. On the other side and looming above the town are the first mountains of the Andes, with the snow covered peaks of Nevado del Cachi rising to almost 21,000 ft. Very impressive!
We spent 4 hours wandering about Cachi, taking in the scenery and eating lunch at an outdoor café, until our return bus arrived. Then we returned back through the gorgeous scenery getting a slightly different view of the mountains covered in lush green vegetation and the Calchiques river, a silvery ribbon in the valley far below.
The next day we went by bus to Cafayate and after checking into the hostel, took a tour in a landrover through yet more canyons, bumping up into dry river beds strewn with green copper rocks, more layered rocks, dry waterfalls and more cactus. A trying day but not to be missed. Parts of this valley of the Calchiques River are very reminiscent of the Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, Monument Valley, and, again, The Painted Desert; all on a much smaller scale, though grand enough for anyone.
From Cafayate we took a bus to San Miguel de Tucuman which climbed up through the desert into the clouds at 10,000 feet. Then down through thick jungle where the trees were covered with vines, bromeliads and orchids. It was more jungly than even Costa Rica. Finally the bus drove through miles of pasture land, the start of the Argentine Pampas, where the weather was warmer. In three days we had traveled from Arizona, to Costa Rica, and now we were in Kansas.
Tucuman is a very big city but didn’t offer much besides a lovely central square with some fine old colonial buildings.
From Tucuman we traveled to Cordoba which again didn’t offer anything new or interesting. On to Rosario, a very pleasant city about 4 hours from Buenos Aires. We arrived on Sunday and spent several hours walking along the pedestrian street where all the shops were closed. The city is an important port on the Parana River for shipping produce from the many farms and factories. Along the river a park stretches almost as long as the city itself. At one place they have erected a large modern monument with Greek-like statues and an eternal flame to honor the first raising of the Argentina flag. Rosario is in many ways a smaller, quieter version of Buenos Aires with its parks, its monuments and the old colonial buildings. Finally we finished by walking the pedestrian street when the shops were open and dined at the exclusive restaurant “Mc Donald’s” after enjoying Rosario.
The area north of Rosario was once home to the Jewish Gauchos of the Pampas. At the end of the 19th century, hundreds of Jews from Russia and Poland, escaping pogroms, managed to find themselves in Central Argentina. With the help of Baron de Hirsch, a Jewish Philanthropist, they received enough money to start their own farms and ranches. Just imagine it, a bunch of Chassidic “Christ Killers” plopped down in the midst of the Catholic Indio Pampas. After a somewhat difficult start, the 2 communities actually got along quite well, with the Jews learning Spanish, and the natives speaking Yiddish. Today, all their descendants are doctors and lawyers in Buenos Aires and Rosario and all that remains are a few old decrepit synagogues overgrown with weeds. There was nothing left for us to go visit.
The whole area from Cafayate to Buenos Aires is in the “Pampas”, the agricultural center of Argentina. About as large as the center of the U.S; cows, sheep and horses share land with corn, soy beans, haystacks, silos, small towns, farm equipment and factories. Surprisingly, we saw no wheat growing. As we drove through, for 3 days, we thought that we could be driving through Kansas, Iowa, or Nebraska; just as flat and just as big.
Finally, after almost a month of traveling, we returned to Buenos Aires and the Alkimista Hostel, where the vast bulk of our luggage was waiting for us. We expect to remain here for a week or so, catching our breath, and then on to Chile.
Two hours north of Salta along the road to Bolivia is the small town of San Salvador de Jujuy. The book rated it as a place to visit. It isn’t! We met a very nice couple from Alaska and traveled with them on the bus to Jujuy where we found room in the Chung King (yes, you read that right) Hotel.
The basilica church was built in 1546 and a few other old buildings date around that time. Today a small pedestrian street lined with shops offers goods for sale. A small park with the church and the old city hall are the only two old colonial buildings that are worth seeing.
Our plan was to visit Jujuy, then Huamahuaca in the north, returning south to visit Tilcara and finally return to Salta. Plans do change. The bus north was to Huamahuaca; however it stopped in Tilcara where it emptied all the passengers out.A bus to Humahuaca will be here in 20 minutes. After 2 hours it finally arrived not at the terminal where we were all waiting but a bit out of the way. We dragged our luggage (no taxis in town) down dirt and rock roads and boarded the bus which was full so we were forced to stand (another word for being thrown about) for the rest of the trip to Huamahuaca. Finally arriving during the biggest weekend of the year for tourists (“Carnival”) and almost dark, Ted set off to book hotel rooms. None available in town! Kids with backpacks wandered up and down looking for a room. There is a tent camping site which was full. Finally a friendly woman sent Ted a bit out of town, about half a mile or so, where a new hotel is under construction. They had rooms but the bathrooms aren’t finished. Shared bathrooms outside. Being high in the mountains, 9000 feet above sea level, it was quite cold. Going outside in the middle of the night to find a bathroom in freezing cold was not in my original plan, but plans do change.
After we dropped our luggage off, we strolled back to town to find food. Canned snow is the big seller during “Carnival”. Kids run through the streets squirting each other and sometimes the unwary tourist. The streets were littered with empty cans and every shop and vendor had stacks of cans to sell. The town square, with a very picturesque stone church, was filled with visitors. Next to the square are steps leading up to the Monument of Heros of Independence with many people sitting on the steps waiting for some fun to start. Several jugglers were practicing while kids ran and played. A small alcove with local crafts offered “Lama sweaters”, pots, Mate cups and other items.
On the little streets leading from the square, shops catering to tourists or restaurants sit between homes. Many of the houses have been painted and cleaned up but as with all small poor towns, many are in need of repair. We hung around for awhile, but nothing much was happening and it was getting colder and colder, so we went back to the hotel.
From Huamahuaca we took the bus back to Jujuy (had a flat tire on the way) and then another to Salta. The area around Salta lies in the foothills which are just east of the Andes. The area is high desert with canyons of incredible beauty. Rocks are pushed up, bent and fractured. Millions of years of water and wind have carved the rock into wonderful shapes. Layers of iron rich rock, sulfur, copper and other chemicals have created a painted panorama of red, brown, green, white and yellow. The landscape is very much like the Painted Desert of Arizona.
Back in Salta we took a day trip to Cachi through another set of canyons. Since it had been raining for two weeks, large streams crossed the road and in several places, washed part of the road away. This in itself isn’t bad except we were on a very winding road with deep gorges on the sides. Quite often, we were forced to stop while bulldozers, which operate 24 hours a day, cleared debris from the road in order to make it passable. The road switched back and forth, climbing up and up. At the highest point on the road we were at 12,000 feet. For some 45 miles, the road is dirt and gravel. Known as the Cuesta de la Obispo, the Bishop’s Trail, this road has got to be one of the most beautiful and exciting roller coaster rides on the planet. Once at the top, we found ourselves on a high plateau, flat for miles and miles around; high desert full of saguaros. Here the road was again paved and we drove for about an hour until we descended into the valley in which the town of Cachi lies. On the other side and looming above the town are the first mountains of the Andes, with the snow covered peaks of Nevado del Cachi rising to almost 21,000 ft. Very impressive!
We spent 4 hours wandering about Cachi, taking in the scenery and eating lunch at an outdoor café, until our return bus arrived. Then we returned back through the gorgeous scenery getting a slightly different view of the mountains covered in lush green vegetation and the Calchiques river, a silvery ribbon in the valley far below.
The next day we went by bus to Cafayate and after checking into the hostel, took a tour in a landrover through yet more canyons, bumping up into dry river beds strewn with green copper rocks, more layered rocks, dry waterfalls and more cactus. A trying day but not to be missed. Parts of this valley of the Calchiques River are very reminiscent of the Grand Canyon, Zion National Park, Monument Valley, and, again, The Painted Desert; all on a much smaller scale, though grand enough for anyone.
From Cafayate we took a bus to San Miguel de Tucuman which climbed up through the desert into the clouds at 10,000 feet. Then down through thick jungle where the trees were covered with vines, bromeliads and orchids. It was more jungly than even Costa Rica. Finally the bus drove through miles of pasture land, the start of the Argentine Pampas, where the weather was warmer. In three days we had traveled from Arizona, to Costa Rica, and now we were in Kansas.
Tucuman is a very big city but didn’t offer much besides a lovely central square with some fine old colonial buildings.
From Tucuman we traveled to Cordoba which again didn’t offer anything new or interesting. On to Rosario, a very pleasant city about 4 hours from Buenos Aires. We arrived on Sunday and spent several hours walking along the pedestrian street where all the shops were closed. The city is an important port on the Parana River for shipping produce from the many farms and factories. Along the river a park stretches almost as long as the city itself. At one place they have erected a large modern monument with Greek-like statues and an eternal flame to honor the first raising of the Argentina flag. Rosario is in many ways a smaller, quieter version of Buenos Aires with its parks, its monuments and the old colonial buildings. Finally we finished by walking the pedestrian street when the shops were open and dined at the exclusive restaurant “Mc Donald’s” after enjoying Rosario.
The area north of Rosario was once home to the Jewish Gauchos of the Pampas. At the end of the 19th century, hundreds of Jews from Russia and Poland, escaping pogroms, managed to find themselves in Central Argentina. With the help of Baron de Hirsch, a Jewish Philanthropist, they received enough money to start their own farms and ranches. Just imagine it, a bunch of Chassidic “Christ Killers” plopped down in the midst of the Catholic Indio Pampas. After a somewhat difficult start, the 2 communities actually got along quite well, with the Jews learning Spanish, and the natives speaking Yiddish. Today, all their descendants are doctors and lawyers in Buenos Aires and Rosario and all that remains are a few old decrepit synagogues overgrown with weeds. There was nothing left for us to go visit.
The whole area from Cafayate to Buenos Aires is in the “Pampas”, the agricultural center of Argentina. About as large as the center of the U.S; cows, sheep and horses share land with corn, soy beans, haystacks, silos, small towns, farm equipment and factories. Surprisingly, we saw no wheat growing. As we drove through, for 3 days, we thought that we could be driving through Kansas, Iowa, or Nebraska; just as flat and just as big.
Finally, after almost a month of traveling, we returned to Buenos Aires and the Alkimista Hostel, where the vast bulk of our luggage was waiting for us. We expect to remain here for a week or so, catching our breath, and then on to Chile.
Asuncion, Paraguay to Salta, Argencina
Paraguay Jan 28, 2008
Leaving Rio on a Crucerro del Norte bus, we had to book for Puerto Iguazu on the Argentina side. From there, local buses cross back into Brazil and then Paraguay. The bus itself stops in Foz on the Brazilian side but we weren’t allowed off. We then had to go through the Brazil immigration, then the Argentina immigration, and arrived at the terminal during a downpour. After waiting for over 2 hours for the local bus which runs every 20 minutes and night falling, we decided that we’d spend the night on the Argentina side and cross in the morning.
Early the next morning, Monday Jan 28, we caught the local bus which took us back to Argentina immigration for the second time in two days and then to Brazil immigration, finally entering Paraguay at Cuidad del Este. Our plan was to visit the world’s second largest dam just outside Cuidad del Este. The bus drove straight through, leaving us to backtrack in the rain to find the Paraguayan immigration. We had purchased our visas in Buenos Aires but needed our entry stamp. That done, we walked a few blocks into Cuidad del Este which is nothing more than a huge disorganized shopping bazaar that caters to 30,000 visitors from Brazil and Argentina every day for “duty free” shopping. Needing to find an ATM machine, it took several minutes and a group of taxi drivers to finally understand us. The ATM machine is located in a bank hidden among a few office buildings with no names. After getting Paraguayan Guaranis (money) we bought our bus tickets to Asunción.
Asunción has 1 million in population, several shopping malls, old colonial houses and not much more. We stayed in a private home, the Pension de Silva where they have converted about 8 bedrooms into rooms for rent. The ceilings are at least 20 feet high and the patio has 3 sofas and 6 chairs plus several other tables with 4 chairs each. A large 12 seat table plus china cabinets and large TV occupy a corner and still provide plenty of room for more.
Paraguay is a lovely country caught by crippling economic corruption and a political party that has been in control for 75 years.
It was four times as large as it is today 150 years ago. A major war with Brazil and Argentina resulted in all males over the age of three being slaughtered and Brazil together with Argentina carving and claiming most of Paraguay. The U.S. is pouring money into the country to form a wedge between leftist governments in South America and is making the politicians very very rich while the sidewalks, building, schools, roads, etc. continue to decay. So what’s new?
The next morning we went in search of the fabled boat, the Cacique II for a trip up the Rio Paraguay into the Pantanal. After asking many people, we finally found it being loaded with all sorts of food and beverages. All 3 cabins were booked for the week. We could sleep on deck in hammocks, but if we waited around a week until next Wednesday, we might get a cabin to take us up to Conception. There we would have to wait 4 or 5 days and hope a boat was leaving to go north. No guarantee! After talking with several travelers who had attempted to go upriver, we decided that it was best to head back to Argentina and visit the painted deserts and canyons around Salta.
Back in Argentina Jan 30, 2008
Entering back into Argentina we passed through immigration but didn’t get our passports returned until all our luggage had been taken off the bus and run through an x-ray machine. As they didn’t seem to mind that I had fruit in my bag, a no no, I don’t know what they were looking for. The bus from Asuncion took us to Resistencia where we booked an overnight bus to Salta, a Flecha bus. Not one of the very good ones but okay. On trips of less than 8 hours, the busses have 4 seats across instead of only 2 and 1, so they are narrower.
The landscape changed from lush green to brown rolling hills and finally into high desert. The hills were covered with low desert shrubs and hundreds of Saguaro cactus and a very low, flat growing type of Prickly Pear. We had always heard that Saguaro cactus only grows in the area outside of Tucson, Arizona and the Sonora Desert and that they are more or less endangered. Not in Argentina, there must be several million growing in the high desert. Many of the tourist items and small tables are made from the wood.
Salta is a really beautiful old colonial Spanish town with streets a mix of asphalt and old cobblestone. The large central plaza opens out into a pedestrian street with many shops of all types. The difference in the population from Buenos Aires is very apparent, many people of Indian heritage which gives a different flavor to Salta. We thought about renting a car but found out that the insurance isn’t really cheap; it comes with a deductible of $1300 USD.
Most of the hotels were booked because of the local “Carnival” but we found a newly refurbished and clean room with private bath for only $16 USD, but it was a ways from downtown so we spent a bit more on taxi fares.
We had neglected to change our Paraguayan money back into Argentinean pesos and found that no bank would change it, forcing us to wait until Buenos Aires and hope for the best.
Most of the town action occurs at the lovely town square. There couples and families congregate evenings. Restaurants and sidewalk cafes are full and parades, dances and the local “Carnival” brings Indians in traditional dress out. A couple of “Gauchos” walked around drumming up business for a restaurant but were more than happy to pose for the tourists.
A cable car runs from one the many parks up to the top of a mountain with fantastic views. Ted took the cable car while I visited all the tourist shops. After, we wandered through the main plaza, arriving just in time to witness a children’s parade. Some children wore costumes while the majority marched in street clothes. Many mothers accompanied the children.
The parade ended by the park gazebo where music blasted out; older kids mixed, danced and enjoyed. Suddenly Indians in brightly colored dress with elaborate headdresses began to congregate at one corner. Placing their feathered headdresses on a rack, they encouraged the children to touch and examine, some children trying the headdresses on. The biggest headdress had a stuffed Capybara mounted while several of the smaller ones had Armadillo shells mounted. After awhile, the Indians performed a dance back and forth in the plaza.
Walking around one of the city’s several parks, we spotted a small wooden boat shaped like one Christopher Columbus might have sailed in. An Ice Cream Boat, complete with ice cream cones and an assortment of flavors. Many stalls were set up selling all sorts of tourist delights. The ever present stalls selling a wide assortment of “mate” cups. These cups are made from horn, silver, gourds or rock. In each cup a silver straw with a filter rests. “Mate” is a sort of herbal tea that is stuffed into the “cups”, hot water from thermoses that almost all Argentineans seem to carry with them, is poured over the herbs and the drink is sucked up the straw. I tried a “Mate” tea bag but have yet to try the cup full of packed herbs. It tasted like Green Tea.
Several small malls are entered from the Plaza walking street. One had a large display of painted Saguaro Cactus, painted in fanciful colors and adorned with humorous or imaginary colors.
Salta has a museum where three mummies from high in the Andes have been brought, one on display and two in the freezer. The mummies, all children, were sacrifices of the Incas and were all royal children. With the children were small dolls, bowls and other items needed for the journey to the Gods. Because they were basically “freeze dried”, the children’s bodies and their clothes are in very good condition.
Next: north on the Bolivian trail to Jujuy.
Leaving Rio on a Crucerro del Norte bus, we had to book for Puerto Iguazu on the Argentina side. From there, local buses cross back into Brazil and then Paraguay. The bus itself stops in Foz on the Brazilian side but we weren’t allowed off. We then had to go through the Brazil immigration, then the Argentina immigration, and arrived at the terminal during a downpour. After waiting for over 2 hours for the local bus which runs every 20 minutes and night falling, we decided that we’d spend the night on the Argentina side and cross in the morning.
Early the next morning, Monday Jan 28, we caught the local bus which took us back to Argentina immigration for the second time in two days and then to Brazil immigration, finally entering Paraguay at Cuidad del Este. Our plan was to visit the world’s second largest dam just outside Cuidad del Este. The bus drove straight through, leaving us to backtrack in the rain to find the Paraguayan immigration. We had purchased our visas in Buenos Aires but needed our entry stamp. That done, we walked a few blocks into Cuidad del Este which is nothing more than a huge disorganized shopping bazaar that caters to 30,000 visitors from Brazil and Argentina every day for “duty free” shopping. Needing to find an ATM machine, it took several minutes and a group of taxi drivers to finally understand us. The ATM machine is located in a bank hidden among a few office buildings with no names. After getting Paraguayan Guaranis (money) we bought our bus tickets to Asunción.
Asunción has 1 million in population, several shopping malls, old colonial houses and not much more. We stayed in a private home, the Pension de Silva where they have converted about 8 bedrooms into rooms for rent. The ceilings are at least 20 feet high and the patio has 3 sofas and 6 chairs plus several other tables with 4 chairs each. A large 12 seat table plus china cabinets and large TV occupy a corner and still provide plenty of room for more.
Paraguay is a lovely country caught by crippling economic corruption and a political party that has been in control for 75 years.
It was four times as large as it is today 150 years ago. A major war with Brazil and Argentina resulted in all males over the age of three being slaughtered and Brazil together with Argentina carving and claiming most of Paraguay. The U.S. is pouring money into the country to form a wedge between leftist governments in South America and is making the politicians very very rich while the sidewalks, building, schools, roads, etc. continue to decay. So what’s new?
The next morning we went in search of the fabled boat, the Cacique II for a trip up the Rio Paraguay into the Pantanal. After asking many people, we finally found it being loaded with all sorts of food and beverages. All 3 cabins were booked for the week. We could sleep on deck in hammocks, but if we waited around a week until next Wednesday, we might get a cabin to take us up to Conception. There we would have to wait 4 or 5 days and hope a boat was leaving to go north. No guarantee! After talking with several travelers who had attempted to go upriver, we decided that it was best to head back to Argentina and visit the painted deserts and canyons around Salta.
Back in Argentina Jan 30, 2008
Entering back into Argentina we passed through immigration but didn’t get our passports returned until all our luggage had been taken off the bus and run through an x-ray machine. As they didn’t seem to mind that I had fruit in my bag, a no no, I don’t know what they were looking for. The bus from Asuncion took us to Resistencia where we booked an overnight bus to Salta, a Flecha bus. Not one of the very good ones but okay. On trips of less than 8 hours, the busses have 4 seats across instead of only 2 and 1, so they are narrower.
The landscape changed from lush green to brown rolling hills and finally into high desert. The hills were covered with low desert shrubs and hundreds of Saguaro cactus and a very low, flat growing type of Prickly Pear. We had always heard that Saguaro cactus only grows in the area outside of Tucson, Arizona and the Sonora Desert and that they are more or less endangered. Not in Argentina, there must be several million growing in the high desert. Many of the tourist items and small tables are made from the wood.
Salta is a really beautiful old colonial Spanish town with streets a mix of asphalt and old cobblestone. The large central plaza opens out into a pedestrian street with many shops of all types. The difference in the population from Buenos Aires is very apparent, many people of Indian heritage which gives a different flavor to Salta. We thought about renting a car but found out that the insurance isn’t really cheap; it comes with a deductible of $1300 USD.
Most of the hotels were booked because of the local “Carnival” but we found a newly refurbished and clean room with private bath for only $16 USD, but it was a ways from downtown so we spent a bit more on taxi fares.
We had neglected to change our Paraguayan money back into Argentinean pesos and found that no bank would change it, forcing us to wait until Buenos Aires and hope for the best.
Most of the town action occurs at the lovely town square. There couples and families congregate evenings. Restaurants and sidewalk cafes are full and parades, dances and the local “Carnival” brings Indians in traditional dress out. A couple of “Gauchos” walked around drumming up business for a restaurant but were more than happy to pose for the tourists.
A cable car runs from one the many parks up to the top of a mountain with fantastic views. Ted took the cable car while I visited all the tourist shops. After, we wandered through the main plaza, arriving just in time to witness a children’s parade. Some children wore costumes while the majority marched in street clothes. Many mothers accompanied the children.
The parade ended by the park gazebo where music blasted out; older kids mixed, danced and enjoyed. Suddenly Indians in brightly colored dress with elaborate headdresses began to congregate at one corner. Placing their feathered headdresses on a rack, they encouraged the children to touch and examine, some children trying the headdresses on. The biggest headdress had a stuffed Capybara mounted while several of the smaller ones had Armadillo shells mounted. After awhile, the Indians performed a dance back and forth in the plaza.
Walking around one of the city’s several parks, we spotted a small wooden boat shaped like one Christopher Columbus might have sailed in. An Ice Cream Boat, complete with ice cream cones and an assortment of flavors. Many stalls were set up selling all sorts of tourist delights. The ever present stalls selling a wide assortment of “mate” cups. These cups are made from horn, silver, gourds or rock. In each cup a silver straw with a filter rests. “Mate” is a sort of herbal tea that is stuffed into the “cups”, hot water from thermoses that almost all Argentineans seem to carry with them, is poured over the herbs and the drink is sucked up the straw. I tried a “Mate” tea bag but have yet to try the cup full of packed herbs. It tasted like Green Tea.
Several small malls are entered from the Plaza walking street. One had a large display of painted Saguaro Cactus, painted in fanciful colors and adorned with humorous or imaginary colors.
Salta has a museum where three mummies from high in the Andes have been brought, one on display and two in the freezer. The mummies, all children, were sacrifices of the Incas and were all royal children. With the children were small dolls, bowls and other items needed for the journey to the Gods. Because they were basically “freeze dried”, the children’s bodies and their clothes are in very good condition.
Next: north on the Bolivian trail to Jujuy.
Iguazu Falls through Rio
Iguazu Falls, Argentina Jan 17, 2008
At one time Argentina had a good rail system but through the years with the political problems, the rail system has degenerated into a few tourist trains that aren’t connected and run through local areas only. Buses have taken over, running throughout South America.
There are literally hundreds of bus companies in Argentina. Local, long distance and international. Buses from Buenos Aires daily cross into Chile, Bolivia, Brazil and as far away as Peru. Of course, there is no central information with any type of schedule which means that the traveler must walk up and down the terminals looking for signs posted among posters, advertising destinations. Bus companies can have two or three locations in each terminal but each location sells tickets only to certain cities. You can’t buy a “Flecha Bus” ticket to Salta from location 23 or 46, you must walk down to location 98. Choice in buses range from the “coche” to “Cama Suite.” “Coches” are the local buses with boxes and luggage strapped to the top. “Camas” can have 3 or 4 seats across(3 seats across being larger and more comfortable for the larger traveler), double deckers with toilets, seats that lay back almost flat and big front windows. The “Semi Camas” serve food and drinks, and the “Cama Suites” or “Cama Executivo” have seats that flatten into beds, serve food with wine or beer and are very luxurious. Bus terminals in big cities are like small towns, usually clean with restaurants, banks, shops and in Cordoba, a supermarket. The Retiro bus station in Buenos Aires may well be the largest bus terminal in the world covering almost 5 city blocks with spaces for 75 busses at a time. Terminals decrease in splendor in proportion to the size of the town until only a shop front selling tickets.
The trip from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu, Argentina took 20 hours and was very comfortable in the “Semi Cama” bus. Comfortable seats, good food and an awesome view (we were in the front 2 seats on the upper deck, a location we tried to get all the time.) The landscape from Buenos Aires changes from flat to rolling hills, forests with logging and all a lush green. We arrived in Puerto Iguazu where we had reservations at the biggest and best hostel (Hostel Inn) we’ve every seen, set in a park-like setting. A large establishment with internet, pool, tours, etc. the hostel arranges buses to and from the falls with a packaged lunch.
The Argentina side has built bridges and walkways over the actual falls. We started our visit by walking along a metal bridge, built from island to island to see Garganta del Diablo (the devil’s throat), a large hole where the falls begin. A small train takes visitors from the entrance to the top where it is a short walk to the bridges to see Garganta. From there, the train returns, stopping at the beginning of either the walk above or the walk below the falls. As the day was overcast, the weather was warm but not too hot. The falls are multi layered, marvelous and not as wet or as high as Victoria Falls, though, at almost a mile and a quarter wide, they are the largest waterfall on earth. Restaurants attract coati mundis regularly to visit as a ‘clean up crew.’ Large lizards slink under tables and in planted areas, cleaning up anything left by the coati mundis.
Puerto Iguazu on theArgentina side, is a very small town. We had arrived on Sat. afternoon and went walking on Sunday. As elsewhere in South America, everything was shut, closed metal gates prevent any widow shopping. On the other hand, Foz de Iguazu on the Brazilian side, is a very large city which borders both Paraguay and Argentina.
That night at the Hostel Inn there was a barbeque and floor show, a real Brazilian dancer and overly-loud music with an obnoxious MC. The show was aimed for the young males of the group as the gyrating, half naked dancer invited young males onto the stage to teach them how to shake their bottoms. Soon the older guests melted away, leaving the floorshow to the younger crowd.
Next day we crossed into Brazil to view the falls at Foz Iguazu, where the visitor sees an overview of the falls and the bridges (crowded with hundreds of visitors) that we had been on the previous day. Each side of the falls has its own magnificent views. Trees along the walkways were heavy with bromeliads and orchid plants as mist from the falls provides a constant source of water. Only a few of the bromeliads were in bloom and none of the orchids. It must be spectacular when they are blooming.
Next to the Foz entrance is a Bird Park where hundreds of South American birds are kept and a few from Asia and Africa. We wandered around, marveling at the colors and varieties of species, seeing some species that are new to us. There, I was privileged to be able to hold a South American Anaconda and a Macaw. Being able to touch animals is always a highlight of any trip.
Rio Jan 22, 2008
On the Pluma Bus we rode overnight from Foz de Iguazu to Rio through rolling green hills and fields of crops, riding through several very cute little colonial towns on an excellent road. As in Argentina, we went through numerous toll stops and on one occasion, stopped while the police boarded the bus looking for someone or something. Most of the farm houses we passed looked like modern houses and even the poorest ones had satellite dishes.
An interesting phenomenon that we observed was the Fire Rainbow, a rainbow that formed in the clouds without any rain. I tried to get pictures but they aren’t as great as they could have been had we not been on a moving bus. Most of the tourists were busy snapping cameras while the locals just looked at us strangely.
We had been told that Rio was always steamy hot but found that with an overcast sky and a few showers, it was pleasant. Not knowing what conditions might be, we had purchased two cheap ($5) sleeping bags. We used them on the air-conditioned bus and again at night during our brief stay in Rio.
Our hostel in Rio was in an upgraded favella. Upgraded means some brick walls, some stuccoed walls, lots of hills, lots of children, dogs and lots of garbage. To us, it was a slum. The hostel was run by a woman who seemed nice until we paid her. After that, she couldn’t have been nastier, threw our breakfast down on the table, snarled answers back, and finally at the end, threw open the door and screamed at us “OUT!! OUT!!” Never did figure out what we had done to create such behavior.
The hostel was located above the part of the city known as Santa Teresa, a barrio of winding streets climbing up and down the hills and lined with some of the most interesting old houses in the city and affording marvelous views both down to the port and up to the hill known as Corcovado (the Hunchback), 2500 ft. high with the famous Statue of Christ the Redeemer on top. There is an old tram line which goes up the hill from downtown. It figured highly in the movie “Black Orpheus”. Orpheus was a tram driver. Today it’s the cheapest ride in the city, only a few pennies, which means that it’s always packed with locals and tourists. Those that can’t get seats hang off the sides, back and roof. It reminded us a bit of the San Francisco cable cars only more extreme.
To reach the hostel we took a taxi to near the top of the mountain, climbed some of the way dragging our suitcases, up steps, through cement bags and garbage finally reaching the top where we had to pull our suitcases down a long rambling cement way, across more garbage, over and through a yard, on a wooden path about 12” wide, down some steps and finally to the hostel. Our bed mattress lay on a base made out of plastic bottles held in place with a taped cardboard box. The view from the balcony was worth all the climb and bad vibes. Overlooking the bay and Sugarloaf Mountain, we couldn’t have asked for better.
Our search for a restaurant took us back up and down to find a good German restaurant and 2 rather bad local places. Next day we tried climbing down the mountain and vowed “Never again!” Finally we found a house in the favella that served microwaved pizzas and beer for a few reals (Brazilian money).
For the three days we spent in Rio we rode the metro system and local buses. One strange thing about Brazilian buses is that upon entering, everyone must pass through a very small turn style. I had trouble and Ted found it almost impossible to pass through. It wasn’t only us; the heavier Brazilians really had a time pushing their fat bodies through with shopping bags and purses causing additional problems.
Everywhere in Rio it is dirty and cries out for a paint job except for the tourist beaches at Copacabana and Ipanema. The city is built in the middle of a jungle and mildew covers just about everything. Graffiti adorns every wall, sometimes up to the fourth floor of buildings. Everywhere strangers came up to us to warn us about hiding our cameras. I did, which is why you won’t see many pictures of Rio on the picture web shots. Ted continued to shoot and we didn’t really have any trouble but it did give us an uneasy feeling while we walked the streets.
On our final day we visited the botanical gardens which are very nice with large bromeliad and orchid houses. A treat for us was a family of marmosets running across the beams in the bromeliad house. At the entrance to the park, we were waved inside as senior citizens get in free. How did she know we were senior citizens?
Rio was a very big disappointment. Not only is it expensive, it is dirty, unfriendly and except for the beaches and the views from above, has nothing to offer in the way of sights. Poverty seems to penetrate every street, every house and every building outside of the beach areas. And this is the rich part of Brazil. We certainly won’t recommend it as a place to visit.
At one time Argentina had a good rail system but through the years with the political problems, the rail system has degenerated into a few tourist trains that aren’t connected and run through local areas only. Buses have taken over, running throughout South America.
There are literally hundreds of bus companies in Argentina. Local, long distance and international. Buses from Buenos Aires daily cross into Chile, Bolivia, Brazil and as far away as Peru. Of course, there is no central information with any type of schedule which means that the traveler must walk up and down the terminals looking for signs posted among posters, advertising destinations. Bus companies can have two or three locations in each terminal but each location sells tickets only to certain cities. You can’t buy a “Flecha Bus” ticket to Salta from location 23 or 46, you must walk down to location 98. Choice in buses range from the “coche” to “Cama Suite.” “Coches” are the local buses with boxes and luggage strapped to the top. “Camas” can have 3 or 4 seats across(3 seats across being larger and more comfortable for the larger traveler), double deckers with toilets, seats that lay back almost flat and big front windows. The “Semi Camas” serve food and drinks, and the “Cama Suites” or “Cama Executivo” have seats that flatten into beds, serve food with wine or beer and are very luxurious. Bus terminals in big cities are like small towns, usually clean with restaurants, banks, shops and in Cordoba, a supermarket. The Retiro bus station in Buenos Aires may well be the largest bus terminal in the world covering almost 5 city blocks with spaces for 75 busses at a time. Terminals decrease in splendor in proportion to the size of the town until only a shop front selling tickets.
The trip from Buenos Aires to Puerto Iguazu, Argentina took 20 hours and was very comfortable in the “Semi Cama” bus. Comfortable seats, good food and an awesome view (we were in the front 2 seats on the upper deck, a location we tried to get all the time.) The landscape from Buenos Aires changes from flat to rolling hills, forests with logging and all a lush green. We arrived in Puerto Iguazu where we had reservations at the biggest and best hostel (Hostel Inn) we’ve every seen, set in a park-like setting. A large establishment with internet, pool, tours, etc. the hostel arranges buses to and from the falls with a packaged lunch.
The Argentina side has built bridges and walkways over the actual falls. We started our visit by walking along a metal bridge, built from island to island to see Garganta del Diablo (the devil’s throat), a large hole where the falls begin. A small train takes visitors from the entrance to the top where it is a short walk to the bridges to see Garganta. From there, the train returns, stopping at the beginning of either the walk above or the walk below the falls. As the day was overcast, the weather was warm but not too hot. The falls are multi layered, marvelous and not as wet or as high as Victoria Falls, though, at almost a mile and a quarter wide, they are the largest waterfall on earth. Restaurants attract coati mundis regularly to visit as a ‘clean up crew.’ Large lizards slink under tables and in planted areas, cleaning up anything left by the coati mundis.
Puerto Iguazu on theArgentina side, is a very small town. We had arrived on Sat. afternoon and went walking on Sunday. As elsewhere in South America, everything was shut, closed metal gates prevent any widow shopping. On the other hand, Foz de Iguazu on the Brazilian side, is a very large city which borders both Paraguay and Argentina.
That night at the Hostel Inn there was a barbeque and floor show, a real Brazilian dancer and overly-loud music with an obnoxious MC. The show was aimed for the young males of the group as the gyrating, half naked dancer invited young males onto the stage to teach them how to shake their bottoms. Soon the older guests melted away, leaving the floorshow to the younger crowd.
Next day we crossed into Brazil to view the falls at Foz Iguazu, where the visitor sees an overview of the falls and the bridges (crowded with hundreds of visitors) that we had been on the previous day. Each side of the falls has its own magnificent views. Trees along the walkways were heavy with bromeliads and orchid plants as mist from the falls provides a constant source of water. Only a few of the bromeliads were in bloom and none of the orchids. It must be spectacular when they are blooming.
Next to the Foz entrance is a Bird Park where hundreds of South American birds are kept and a few from Asia and Africa. We wandered around, marveling at the colors and varieties of species, seeing some species that are new to us. There, I was privileged to be able to hold a South American Anaconda and a Macaw. Being able to touch animals is always a highlight of any trip.
Rio Jan 22, 2008
On the Pluma Bus we rode overnight from Foz de Iguazu to Rio through rolling green hills and fields of crops, riding through several very cute little colonial towns on an excellent road. As in Argentina, we went through numerous toll stops and on one occasion, stopped while the police boarded the bus looking for someone or something. Most of the farm houses we passed looked like modern houses and even the poorest ones had satellite dishes.
An interesting phenomenon that we observed was the Fire Rainbow, a rainbow that formed in the clouds without any rain. I tried to get pictures but they aren’t as great as they could have been had we not been on a moving bus. Most of the tourists were busy snapping cameras while the locals just looked at us strangely.
We had been told that Rio was always steamy hot but found that with an overcast sky and a few showers, it was pleasant. Not knowing what conditions might be, we had purchased two cheap ($5) sleeping bags. We used them on the air-conditioned bus and again at night during our brief stay in Rio.
Our hostel in Rio was in an upgraded favella. Upgraded means some brick walls, some stuccoed walls, lots of hills, lots of children, dogs and lots of garbage. To us, it was a slum. The hostel was run by a woman who seemed nice until we paid her. After that, she couldn’t have been nastier, threw our breakfast down on the table, snarled answers back, and finally at the end, threw open the door and screamed at us “OUT!! OUT!!” Never did figure out what we had done to create such behavior.
The hostel was located above the part of the city known as Santa Teresa, a barrio of winding streets climbing up and down the hills and lined with some of the most interesting old houses in the city and affording marvelous views both down to the port and up to the hill known as Corcovado (the Hunchback), 2500 ft. high with the famous Statue of Christ the Redeemer on top. There is an old tram line which goes up the hill from downtown. It figured highly in the movie “Black Orpheus”. Orpheus was a tram driver. Today it’s the cheapest ride in the city, only a few pennies, which means that it’s always packed with locals and tourists. Those that can’t get seats hang off the sides, back and roof. It reminded us a bit of the San Francisco cable cars only more extreme.
To reach the hostel we took a taxi to near the top of the mountain, climbed some of the way dragging our suitcases, up steps, through cement bags and garbage finally reaching the top where we had to pull our suitcases down a long rambling cement way, across more garbage, over and through a yard, on a wooden path about 12” wide, down some steps and finally to the hostel. Our bed mattress lay on a base made out of plastic bottles held in place with a taped cardboard box. The view from the balcony was worth all the climb and bad vibes. Overlooking the bay and Sugarloaf Mountain, we couldn’t have asked for better.
Our search for a restaurant took us back up and down to find a good German restaurant and 2 rather bad local places. Next day we tried climbing down the mountain and vowed “Never again!” Finally we found a house in the favella that served microwaved pizzas and beer for a few reals (Brazilian money).
For the three days we spent in Rio we rode the metro system and local buses. One strange thing about Brazilian buses is that upon entering, everyone must pass through a very small turn style. I had trouble and Ted found it almost impossible to pass through. It wasn’t only us; the heavier Brazilians really had a time pushing their fat bodies through with shopping bags and purses causing additional problems.
Everywhere in Rio it is dirty and cries out for a paint job except for the tourist beaches at Copacabana and Ipanema. The city is built in the middle of a jungle and mildew covers just about everything. Graffiti adorns every wall, sometimes up to the fourth floor of buildings. Everywhere strangers came up to us to warn us about hiding our cameras. I did, which is why you won’t see many pictures of Rio on the picture web shots. Ted continued to shoot and we didn’t really have any trouble but it did give us an uneasy feeling while we walked the streets.
On our final day we visited the botanical gardens which are very nice with large bromeliad and orchid houses. A treat for us was a family of marmosets running across the beams in the bromeliad house. At the entrance to the park, we were waved inside as senior citizens get in free. How did she know we were senior citizens?
Rio was a very big disappointment. Not only is it expensive, it is dirty, unfriendly and except for the beaches and the views from above, has nothing to offer in the way of sights. Poverty seems to penetrate every street, every house and every building outside of the beach areas. And this is the rich part of Brazil. We certainly won’t recommend it as a place to visit.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Buenos Aires Dec. 2007
Buenos Aires Dec. 2007
One of the most visited areas of Buenos Aires is La Boca. Set along the side of the river, it is a busy port. When a plague hit the area, those that could afford to move did, leaving only the poor. Gradually the area attracted artists, writers and musicians. The metal-roofed houses were painted with bright colors creating a 3 dimensional painting not on canvas but on an area of a city. Today the houses contain shops, restaurants and tango schools. Market stalls in the street sell all sorts of tourist items.
In front of an old church, a large group of musicians set up with chairs and an old upright piano and performed for a crowd. Another group of five, wildly dressed musicians with metal drums banged their way through the tourists.
We left the tourist streets and walked along the streets in the non tourist areas where they have a large soccer stadium. There, several residents warned us about going on the side streets because of robbers. That was the only place in Buenos Aires where we have been concerned.
We waited for the Christmas decorations to go up. A few lights in store windows appeared. Some displays sprinkled faux snow. One resident hung Santa from the balcony. The walking street, Florida, put up a few lights in the shape of Christmas trees. But certainly nothing like the Christmas decorations that we’ve seen in India or Europe. It seemed that Christmas might not be such a big thing here. Christmas Eve was quiet. Until 12:00 pm. Then the sky lit up with fireworks, kids set off rockets from the intersections and the reverberating shock waves sounded like the city was being invaded! That went on until about 3:00 am.
We continued to walk the streets, marveling at the old buildings and the new. New Years Eve came and went with only a few firecrackers. We visited the Brazilian Consulate to see about getting a visa. Many South American countries are retaliating against the visa restrictions of the U.S. An example, Chile charges U.S. citizens a $100 retaliation fee when flying in. At the Rio airport, U.S. citizens pay an additional fee of $100 on top of the visa fee of $110. These visa costs are the most expensive we’ve ever seen anywhere else in the world.
Next we visited the Paraguay Consulate. This is a small, dirty and crowded room on a side street near the center of the city. We had read that Paraguay is one of the poorest and least populated countries in South America. Judging by the consulate, we can believe it. An unlimited visa, good for 10 years, cost $65 and took one day.
One day we rode the train to Tigre, about 1 hour, and a 30 cent ticket, from Buenos Aires. Here, people catch the ferry to Uruguay. Others have beautiful homes along the Rio Parana. Boat tours pass the lovely homes and swimming holes. One house completely covered under glass to prevent deterioration was the summer home of General Sarmiento who had been president in the 1870s. The Parana delta is made up of dozens of islands and all are exquisitely manicured with lawns, trees, and ornamental shrubbery. Besides the private houses, some of which are quite elaborate, the islands contain numerous campgrounds, hotels and resorts. This is the weekend and summer playground for the wealthy elite of Buenos Aires but the poor folks can also come here and take advantage of many public beaches.
Another day we visited the city’s largest park, the Parque Tres de Febrero, named for the day that the then General Sarmiento vanquished his arch rival, a cruel and ruthless dictator, making Argentina safe for democracy, for awhile anyway. The park covers some 62 acres in Palermo, the city’s largest single neighborhood consisting of lots of green spaces and monuments, as well as the wealthiest homes and apartment buildings. A large lake is the park’s single main attraction and both pedal boats and rowboats are available for rental. The park was laid out in the 1870s, inspired by the Bois de Boulogne in Paris, and there’s a lovely old footbridge which crosses the lake at its narrowest point leading to a large rose garden and a section of statuary with busts of some of the world’s greatest literary figures. On weekends, the roads are closed to traffic and food vendors of all kinds set up booths. We enjoyed a lunch of the most delicious beef, cut into thin strips and served on a bun.
Now as we’re getting ready to leave Buenos Aires for a trip to Brazil, here are some observations we’ve noticed. The meat is incredible. However, there are no fresh herbs for cooking to be found in the grocery stores. There are some dried ones, but limited in variety. There are wonderful cheeses and sausages. Vegetables are available but not the variety found in Asia and Africa. Fruits are limited to oranges, apples, plums, apricots, and chiquita type bananas.. There is only one brand of yogurt with fruit ( three kinds), all in small containers, while the choice of yogurt drinks fill shelves 20 feet long. Saturday afternoon and Sundays, all shops are closed and the parks are full of families enjoying the hundreds of green spaces in the city.
Many citizens have pet dogs. Professional dog walkers with up to 15 dogs ply the sidewalks. Every neighborhood has a pet shop.
Every block has at least one restaurant with sidewalk tables and chairs. Most have more.
Sidewalks in prosperous neighborhoods are well kept, even and clean. In poorer ones, uneven and unsafe. Traffic lights are long but many people run across on the red light.
The city is basically clean, quiet, and modern with lots of wonderful old buildings and a delight to visit.
One of the most visited areas of Buenos Aires is La Boca. Set along the side of the river, it is a busy port. When a plague hit the area, those that could afford to move did, leaving only the poor. Gradually the area attracted artists, writers and musicians. The metal-roofed houses were painted with bright colors creating a 3 dimensional painting not on canvas but on an area of a city. Today the houses contain shops, restaurants and tango schools. Market stalls in the street sell all sorts of tourist items.
In front of an old church, a large group of musicians set up with chairs and an old upright piano and performed for a crowd. Another group of five, wildly dressed musicians with metal drums banged their way through the tourists.
We left the tourist streets and walked along the streets in the non tourist areas where they have a large soccer stadium. There, several residents warned us about going on the side streets because of robbers. That was the only place in Buenos Aires where we have been concerned.
We waited for the Christmas decorations to go up. A few lights in store windows appeared. Some displays sprinkled faux snow. One resident hung Santa from the balcony. The walking street, Florida, put up a few lights in the shape of Christmas trees. But certainly nothing like the Christmas decorations that we’ve seen in India or Europe. It seemed that Christmas might not be such a big thing here. Christmas Eve was quiet. Until 12:00 pm. Then the sky lit up with fireworks, kids set off rockets from the intersections and the reverberating shock waves sounded like the city was being invaded! That went on until about 3:00 am.
We continued to walk the streets, marveling at the old buildings and the new. New Years Eve came and went with only a few firecrackers. We visited the Brazilian Consulate to see about getting a visa. Many South American countries are retaliating against the visa restrictions of the U.S. An example, Chile charges U.S. citizens a $100 retaliation fee when flying in. At the Rio airport, U.S. citizens pay an additional fee of $100 on top of the visa fee of $110. These visa costs are the most expensive we’ve ever seen anywhere else in the world.
Next we visited the Paraguay Consulate. This is a small, dirty and crowded room on a side street near the center of the city. We had read that Paraguay is one of the poorest and least populated countries in South America. Judging by the consulate, we can believe it. An unlimited visa, good for 10 years, cost $65 and took one day.
One day we rode the train to Tigre, about 1 hour, and a 30 cent ticket, from Buenos Aires. Here, people catch the ferry to Uruguay. Others have beautiful homes along the Rio Parana. Boat tours pass the lovely homes and swimming holes. One house completely covered under glass to prevent deterioration was the summer home of General Sarmiento who had been president in the 1870s. The Parana delta is made up of dozens of islands and all are exquisitely manicured with lawns, trees, and ornamental shrubbery. Besides the private houses, some of which are quite elaborate, the islands contain numerous campgrounds, hotels and resorts. This is the weekend and summer playground for the wealthy elite of Buenos Aires but the poor folks can also come here and take advantage of many public beaches.
Another day we visited the city’s largest park, the Parque Tres de Febrero, named for the day that the then General Sarmiento vanquished his arch rival, a cruel and ruthless dictator, making Argentina safe for democracy, for awhile anyway. The park covers some 62 acres in Palermo, the city’s largest single neighborhood consisting of lots of green spaces and monuments, as well as the wealthiest homes and apartment buildings. A large lake is the park’s single main attraction and both pedal boats and rowboats are available for rental. The park was laid out in the 1870s, inspired by the Bois de Boulogne in Paris, and there’s a lovely old footbridge which crosses the lake at its narrowest point leading to a large rose garden and a section of statuary with busts of some of the world’s greatest literary figures. On weekends, the roads are closed to traffic and food vendors of all kinds set up booths. We enjoyed a lunch of the most delicious beef, cut into thin strips and served on a bun.
Now as we’re getting ready to leave Buenos Aires for a trip to Brazil, here are some observations we’ve noticed. The meat is incredible. However, there are no fresh herbs for cooking to be found in the grocery stores. There are some dried ones, but limited in variety. There are wonderful cheeses and sausages. Vegetables are available but not the variety found in Asia and Africa. Fruits are limited to oranges, apples, plums, apricots, and chiquita type bananas.. There is only one brand of yogurt with fruit ( three kinds), all in small containers, while the choice of yogurt drinks fill shelves 20 feet long. Saturday afternoon and Sundays, all shops are closed and the parks are full of families enjoying the hundreds of green spaces in the city.
Many citizens have pet dogs. Professional dog walkers with up to 15 dogs ply the sidewalks. Every neighborhood has a pet shop.
Every block has at least one restaurant with sidewalk tables and chairs. Most have more.
Sidewalks in prosperous neighborhoods are well kept, even and clean. In poorer ones, uneven and unsafe. Traffic lights are long but many people run across on the red light.
The city is basically clean, quiet, and modern with lots of wonderful old buildings and a delight to visit.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Buenos Aires
Nov 11, 2007 Buenos Aires, Argentina
Arriving in Buenos Aires after a ten hour flight from Cape Town, we disembarked, passed through immigration and found our luggage with no problems. A short taxi ride brought us into the city itself, a city dotted with old colonial buildings between modern steel and glass high rises, wide streets, wonderful old trees, large green parks where people walk dogs or push baby strollers. A far cry from South Africa.
We had picked a backpackers hostel on the internet, one with pictures of nice rooms. However, the reality was far from the pictures. True, we had a private bathroom and a TV mounted high up on the wall. Also, a refrigerator placed high up on a ledge. But the bed had seen better days sometime in the middle of the last century.
We ventured out in search of food. A real paradise for us. Cheese shops filled with many choices. Sausages of every type. Gourmet smells from every restaurant and café (at least three on every block.) The streets, the shops, the old buildings, people walking; everything reminded us of European cities, Madrid, Paris, Florence, or maybe even Barcelona.
Because of the bed, we quickly went in search of a new place. A taxi ride is a good way to see different parts of the city. We soon found a small studio apartment in a very central and rich part of the city. A few blocks away is the Plaza San Martin, a large square surrounded by flowering Jacaranda trees and containing a large statuary group in the center, topped by an equestrian statue of General Jose de San Martin, revered as the liberator of Argentina. By Wednesday we had moved and began exploring the neighborhood. On every corner, flower stands burst with color and sweet fragrance. Many professional dog walkers with up to 20 dogs on connecting leashes walk swiftly by. A couple of blocks from our apartment are a Supermarket, many shops, more cafes and restaurants and several shopping malls. We began to stock our refrigerator.
Our apartment is on Arenales, a tree-lined street filled with 10 and 12 story apartment buildings and upscale shops selling everything from lingerie to fancy furniture. One block away is Avenida Santa Fe, one of the city’s main shopping streets
Two blocks away is the city’s main thoroughfare, the Avenida 9 Julio, probably the widest street in the world. There are 11 lanes of traffic in each direction, 22 in all, broken into sections by tree lined strips. It takes at least 2 traffic light changes to cross this behemoth of an avenue, and if you’re too slow, you can wait for three. Both sides are lined with tallish buildings dating from the 19th and 20th centuries and containing both offices and posh apartments, very reminiscent of New York’s 5th Ave. or the Champs Elysee in Paris, the street level is lined with all kinds of shops. Avenida 9 Julio runs for about 2 miles from the waterfront area to the edge of the downtown section known as Microcentro. At one point, where it crosses the Avenida Corrientes, Buenos Aires’ answer to Broadway, there’s a large plaza containing a 250 ft. tall obelisk built in 1936 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the foundation of Buenos Aires and the spot where the first Argentine flag was hoisted on Independence Day in 1816.
At the Plaza San Martin is the beginning of La Florida, a mile long pedestrian street lined with high-end shops and many shopping malls. One of Argentines specialties is leather goods and almost every shop carries purses, coats and accessories in many colors and patterns of leather. The street is so crowded that just walking becomes an exercise in avoidance. It is also home to the largest Mac Donald’s we’ve ever seen anywhere.
The famous Cementario de Recoleta is also within walking distance (good exercise for old travelers). Outside of the cemetery the streets are lined with outdoor cafes, Tango demonstrations, vendors, a craft market on the weekends and lots of people sitting, eating and enjoying the outdoors. An old Ficus tree over 200 years old spreads it limbs and leaves providing shade under its 200 foot diameter. Benches around the trunk of the tree are filled with couples of every age enjoying the sights, the music and the food that abounds. Certainly not the average cemetery.
Here many of Argentina’s leaders and elite over the centuries (The ones who no longer matter) are buried. Inside the cemetery walls there are mausoleums of every type and size, built of marble, granite, stones or bricks. Many have statues in front, others on domed tops, usually of angels. I especially like the ones with the skylights on top. More light for the dead? Some have glass fronts so visitors can see the caskets. It is a city of and for the dead. We wove our way down the narrow streets looking for Eva Peron’s resting place. Finally we spotted a crowd and found the mausoleum belonging to the family Duarte. Every day crowds come to take pictures and pay homage to the woman many call Saint Evita.
Sunday we rode the metro to an old part of Buenos Aires, the San Telmo section. Here, in the Plaza Dorrego, the large Sunday open air antiques market draws thousands of browsers. We passed antique stalls selling glass ware, bad oil paintings, earrings and jewelry, ancient victrolas, toy soldiers, purses and lots of knitted shawls. The funniest sight is all the stall owners dressed as angels, belly dancers, butterflies, Romans in togas, anything you can think of. The strangest thing was that they are also antiques. There wasn’t a person under 55 dressed in costume. These folks are out here every Sunday and have probably been doing this for many years, not really caring whether they sell any of their wares or not and having loads of fun. We stopped and watched more tango demonstrations, listened to a musical group doing Latin music, visited an old cathedral and enjoyed the afternoon.
So far we are really enjoying Buenos Aires, maybe more so because after living in Asia and Africa for almost 4 years, we appreciate it. Another thing we like is the size of people and the clothes for sale. Especially the underwear. In Asia the people are about the size of an American 10 year old child. Ted bought some XXXL underwear which turned out to be too small even for me! All the bras are padded in countries where the weather is about 100 degrees Fahrenheit or 40+ Celsius. Do they think breasts are like yeast and flour; they’ll rise with more heat? In India clothes are very cheap but they all look like they came from an import place. Okay for me but Ted didn’t want to look like a 65 + year old hippie. Bras were very cheap, about $1.25 U.S. And they look like it. In Africa there wasn’t much choice. Sure, in the used clothes markets in Tanzania but who wants to wear used underwear? So finally we’re back with choices of size, color, lace and brands. Thank heaven; we’re about out of underwear, though Ted says that it’s a long time since he’s seen so many women he’d like to see without underwear.
Buenos Aires has a “Pink House” (Casa Rosada) where the President lives during his term of office. This is where the Peron’s used to address the crowds from an upstairs window. Today, the park in front of the House is filled with strolling people and pigeons. A vendor sells pigeon food and buyers are treated to hundreds of pigeons which will sit on their arms or head to reach the food.
In another part of the city we found the Mercado de Pulgas (flea market), a real treat. A city block filled with different vendors selling everything from estate or garage sales. Wonderful old items along with pure junk. Some great buys. Shops filled with chandeliers, old furniture, old costume jewelry, silver, glass, mirrors, and a thousand other great finds.
Yesterday we visited the Plaza Congreso, the Argentine legislature, built on the model of the US Capitol in Washington, sporting a huge dome and rotunda. Unlike the capitol, however, the building is adorned with large numbers of European style sculptures including a gigantic victory driving a chariot on the front portico roof. The Plaza across the street has a huge fountain with fantastic horses’ ala the fountain in the main square in Salzburg, Austria, which stands in front of a large monument to Argentine independence. It’s definitely one of the world’s greatest city squares, ranking right up there with anything anywhere else in the world.
We’ve traveled on the subway and the busses. One subway line, Lina A has very old cars with wooden seats and doors that are manually opened. It’s like stepping back in time about 100 years. We’ve walked miles through old and new neighborhoods. It certainly is an interesting city. And we haven’t even left Buenos Aires yet!
Arriving in Buenos Aires after a ten hour flight from Cape Town, we disembarked, passed through immigration and found our luggage with no problems. A short taxi ride brought us into the city itself, a city dotted with old colonial buildings between modern steel and glass high rises, wide streets, wonderful old trees, large green parks where people walk dogs or push baby strollers. A far cry from South Africa.
We had picked a backpackers hostel on the internet, one with pictures of nice rooms. However, the reality was far from the pictures. True, we had a private bathroom and a TV mounted high up on the wall. Also, a refrigerator placed high up on a ledge. But the bed had seen better days sometime in the middle of the last century.
We ventured out in search of food. A real paradise for us. Cheese shops filled with many choices. Sausages of every type. Gourmet smells from every restaurant and café (at least three on every block.) The streets, the shops, the old buildings, people walking; everything reminded us of European cities, Madrid, Paris, Florence, or maybe even Barcelona.
Because of the bed, we quickly went in search of a new place. A taxi ride is a good way to see different parts of the city. We soon found a small studio apartment in a very central and rich part of the city. A few blocks away is the Plaza San Martin, a large square surrounded by flowering Jacaranda trees and containing a large statuary group in the center, topped by an equestrian statue of General Jose de San Martin, revered as the liberator of Argentina. By Wednesday we had moved and began exploring the neighborhood. On every corner, flower stands burst with color and sweet fragrance. Many professional dog walkers with up to 20 dogs on connecting leashes walk swiftly by. A couple of blocks from our apartment are a Supermarket, many shops, more cafes and restaurants and several shopping malls. We began to stock our refrigerator.
Our apartment is on Arenales, a tree-lined street filled with 10 and 12 story apartment buildings and upscale shops selling everything from lingerie to fancy furniture. One block away is Avenida Santa Fe, one of the city’s main shopping streets
Two blocks away is the city’s main thoroughfare, the Avenida 9 Julio, probably the widest street in the world. There are 11 lanes of traffic in each direction, 22 in all, broken into sections by tree lined strips. It takes at least 2 traffic light changes to cross this behemoth of an avenue, and if you’re too slow, you can wait for three. Both sides are lined with tallish buildings dating from the 19th and 20th centuries and containing both offices and posh apartments, very reminiscent of New York’s 5th Ave. or the Champs Elysee in Paris, the street level is lined with all kinds of shops. Avenida 9 Julio runs for about 2 miles from the waterfront area to the edge of the downtown section known as Microcentro. At one point, where it crosses the Avenida Corrientes, Buenos Aires’ answer to Broadway, there’s a large plaza containing a 250 ft. tall obelisk built in 1936 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the foundation of Buenos Aires and the spot where the first Argentine flag was hoisted on Independence Day in 1816.
At the Plaza San Martin is the beginning of La Florida, a mile long pedestrian street lined with high-end shops and many shopping malls. One of Argentines specialties is leather goods and almost every shop carries purses, coats and accessories in many colors and patterns of leather. The street is so crowded that just walking becomes an exercise in avoidance. It is also home to the largest Mac Donald’s we’ve ever seen anywhere.
The famous Cementario de Recoleta is also within walking distance (good exercise for old travelers). Outside of the cemetery the streets are lined with outdoor cafes, Tango demonstrations, vendors, a craft market on the weekends and lots of people sitting, eating and enjoying the outdoors. An old Ficus tree over 200 years old spreads it limbs and leaves providing shade under its 200 foot diameter. Benches around the trunk of the tree are filled with couples of every age enjoying the sights, the music and the food that abounds. Certainly not the average cemetery.
Here many of Argentina’s leaders and elite over the centuries (The ones who no longer matter) are buried. Inside the cemetery walls there are mausoleums of every type and size, built of marble, granite, stones or bricks. Many have statues in front, others on domed tops, usually of angels. I especially like the ones with the skylights on top. More light for the dead? Some have glass fronts so visitors can see the caskets. It is a city of and for the dead. We wove our way down the narrow streets looking for Eva Peron’s resting place. Finally we spotted a crowd and found the mausoleum belonging to the family Duarte. Every day crowds come to take pictures and pay homage to the woman many call Saint Evita.
Sunday we rode the metro to an old part of Buenos Aires, the San Telmo section. Here, in the Plaza Dorrego, the large Sunday open air antiques market draws thousands of browsers. We passed antique stalls selling glass ware, bad oil paintings, earrings and jewelry, ancient victrolas, toy soldiers, purses and lots of knitted shawls. The funniest sight is all the stall owners dressed as angels, belly dancers, butterflies, Romans in togas, anything you can think of. The strangest thing was that they are also antiques. There wasn’t a person under 55 dressed in costume. These folks are out here every Sunday and have probably been doing this for many years, not really caring whether they sell any of their wares or not and having loads of fun. We stopped and watched more tango demonstrations, listened to a musical group doing Latin music, visited an old cathedral and enjoyed the afternoon.
So far we are really enjoying Buenos Aires, maybe more so because after living in Asia and Africa for almost 4 years, we appreciate it. Another thing we like is the size of people and the clothes for sale. Especially the underwear. In Asia the people are about the size of an American 10 year old child. Ted bought some XXXL underwear which turned out to be too small even for me! All the bras are padded in countries where the weather is about 100 degrees Fahrenheit or 40+ Celsius. Do they think breasts are like yeast and flour; they’ll rise with more heat? In India clothes are very cheap but they all look like they came from an import place. Okay for me but Ted didn’t want to look like a 65 + year old hippie. Bras were very cheap, about $1.25 U.S. And they look like it. In Africa there wasn’t much choice. Sure, in the used clothes markets in Tanzania but who wants to wear used underwear? So finally we’re back with choices of size, color, lace and brands. Thank heaven; we’re about out of underwear, though Ted says that it’s a long time since he’s seen so many women he’d like to see without underwear.
Buenos Aires has a “Pink House” (Casa Rosada) where the President lives during his term of office. This is where the Peron’s used to address the crowds from an upstairs window. Today, the park in front of the House is filled with strolling people and pigeons. A vendor sells pigeon food and buyers are treated to hundreds of pigeons which will sit on their arms or head to reach the food.
In another part of the city we found the Mercado de Pulgas (flea market), a real treat. A city block filled with different vendors selling everything from estate or garage sales. Wonderful old items along with pure junk. Some great buys. Shops filled with chandeliers, old furniture, old costume jewelry, silver, glass, mirrors, and a thousand other great finds.
Yesterday we visited the Plaza Congreso, the Argentine legislature, built on the model of the US Capitol in Washington, sporting a huge dome and rotunda. Unlike the capitol, however, the building is adorned with large numbers of European style sculptures including a gigantic victory driving a chariot on the front portico roof. The Plaza across the street has a huge fountain with fantastic horses’ ala the fountain in the main square in Salzburg, Austria, which stands in front of a large monument to Argentine independence. It’s definitely one of the world’s greatest city squares, ranking right up there with anything anywhere else in the world.
We’ve traveled on the subway and the busses. One subway line, Lina A has very old cars with wooden seats and doors that are manually opened. It’s like stepping back in time about 100 years. We’ve walked miles through old and new neighborhoods. It certainly is an interesting city. And we haven’t even left Buenos Aires yet!
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