Patagonia (part II) and Buenos Aires

---

Once again it's been an interesting fortnight since my last update. In that time we've travelled the length of Argentina and spent a fantastic few days in Buenos Aires.

By the time we arrived in Ushuaia we had covered over 14,000km since we started the tour in Quito way back in October. The city is the self-styled "end of the world" and according to the signpost on the high street is 13,400km from London (unsurprisingly, there was no mention of the distance to Sheffield). More importantly, it was also our base to explore the Beagal channel and Tierra del Fuego national park.

On our first full day, we took a boat trip along the channel to view a colony of sea lions, as well as cormorants and black turns. Fortunately the weather was surprisingly warm and the water calm, so we were able to walk around deck in our shirts (later on in the day, another boat with some of our group on board had its lower front window smashed by the force of the waves). Once again the views were memorable and we could see across to Isla Navarino, which is part of Chile (actually, there is an ongoing border dispute between the countries so we could have been looking at Argentina) and we got to view the end of the Pacific Highway, which stretches up to Alaska and which carried us for large parts of our journey.

After stopping at an excellent local restaurant in a bright yellow house to sample the local beer and lamb dishes, we visited the former penal colony turned prison museum. Over a hundred years old it housed some of Argentina's most notorious villians and political prisoners. Surprisingly it operated as an open prison as the prisoners worked outside to help build the local community (to asert Argentine sovereignty over the territory) and because anyone who escaped was so isolated they either died or came back of their own accord after a couple of days.

That night, a few of us went out into town and drank at the most southerly Irish bar in the world - alas, the title of most southernly drinking establishment belongs to an Antartic research station (although quite how much research gets done I don't know - it's a tough one, look at the snow again for the 50th day running in the freezing cold or sit by the fire and get pissed). The whole evening was a slightly disorientating experience as when we left our campsite at 11pm it was light, and when we stumbled out of the club at 5am it was light again.

Next day, we were up bright and early at 8am to go hiking in Tierra del Fuego (named after the light of the camp fires of the native tribes seen by the early explorers - naturally given South America's history they're all but extinct now). I decided (unwisely as it turns out) that I could shake off my hangover and lack of sleep by walking 11km - it turns out that I couldn't, as I spent most of the time stumbling into tree routes and ignoring all attempts at conversation. Still, the walk was rewarding as it took in interesting forest paths and followed the coastline with views across the bay. We took our last mountain-snow-lake photos of the tour. After we finished, Kylie and I retired to the local hostel where I spent a long time trying to cajole the waitress into accepting that (a) I wanted both chips and fried eggs and (b) that it was not only OK to put them on the same plate but that the eggs can sit on top. Still, I felt better after a bit of British grub.

At this point we said goodbye to a number of people in our group who were flying directly to Buenos Aires. There was a palpable air of excitement in the group about the prospect of extra days in the city (I hadn't heard so much talk about BA since the heyday of the A-team). The rest of us made the long journey up to the capital in the truck.

The first day looked decidely unpromising as we awoke to freezing temperatures and boarded the truck in our fleeces and jackets (ironic given the sweltering heat in Asuncion, Paraguay, where I am writing this entry a fortnight later). Things brightened up as we watched the sunrise over Ushuaia bay and then stopped off at a wonderful bakery where we bizarrely got to see real live Tucans for the first time on tour (our tour company is Tucan travel). However, the highlight of the day was undoubtely the border crossing back into Chile.

Firstly, a car pulled up with literally no windscreen - whilst it is common for people to drive in South America with massive cracks in the screens this was the first time there was absolutely no glass. It was a bit unfortunate for the driver and his passenger as it had started to hail quite heavily. Still, they didn't flinch and carried on wearing their massive Italian-style sunglasses with a bit of a swagger. Once inside the border control building, we were treated to the most bizarre toilet layout as there were no doors seperating the toilets so you could (in theory) have a shit with the bloke next to you using the urinal and pissing about 10cm away from your right ear - and lets be honest, blokes aren't renouned for their accuracy.

After that it was back on the ferry to cross the Magellan strait. Unlike the first crossing, the weather was a lot worse and the waves were breaking over the bow of the boat and spraying those of us silly enough to stay out on deck. Back in Argentina, we crashed out in a non-descript campsite next to a major road junction (honestly, doing nothing for 14 plus hours a day really takes it out of you).

The second day was uneventful apart for a detour to visit the newly created Monumento Natural Bosques, where it is possible to see (in the most limiting and strictest possible terms - it is more heavily guarded than Argentina's borders) the petrified remains of 60m year old Araucaria trees (Monkey Puzzle to you and me). The trees were covered by volcanic ash and later sea sediment and now look like massive pieces of brown charcoal located in a red desert. It was also tangibly getting hotter as we moved further north - we started the morning in fleeces, by the end of the day we were baking in our shorts and t-shirts.

Our visit to the Welsh settlements in Patagonia on our third travel day was the reason many of us hadn't join the Princess Flight up to B.A. We stopped off in the tiny village of Gaiman to view the curious Welsh-Argentinan hybrid culture but really to sample one of the Welsh teahouses that are dotted around the main square and to get a decent cup of tea. The streetnames are a wonderful composition of Spanish and Welsh names (for example, the library is named after Ricardo Jones Berwyn) whilst a number of buildings proudly sported both national flags. The tea was stunning - for the equivalent of a fiver we all received nine pieces of cake (including scones, Welsh bread, fruit cakes and sponges) all washed down with tea from a proper tea pot! Just like being at home. However, Welsh patagonia is about as far removed from Wales as you can imagine - for a start it wasn't raining but was baking hot. The surrounding land is flat and dry and there were no sheep in sight. All in all a curious place for the Welsh to settle but understanding their mindset has baffled me for years. We finished the day camping just outside Puerto Madryn, a Welsh founded port city, that apparently is a beach resort but the water and beach left a lot to be desired.

The Peninsula Valdes reserve is the major tourist attraction in the area and we spent the next day touring around by bus and boat. Set up as recently as the 1970s, it is now the place to see both Southern Right Whales and Orcas (naturally we had turned up at the end of the season so missed out on both). However, we did get the opportunity to view Patagonian Sea Lions, Southern Elephant Seals, Magellanic Penguins and a variety of sea birds. There was also the opportunity to snorkel but I gave this a miss fearing another struggle with a wet suit. Instead, I contented myself with jumping into a deep pool from the shoreline. However, the area is a breeding colony for sea lions and our guide had warned us that the bulls are fiercely protective and it has been known for them to charge tourists who venture to close. As I was clambering out of the water, I heard the roar of a Sea Lion behind me and in my haste I managed to cut myself a number of times on the rock, which included a number of razor sharp sea shells embedded into it. Later in the afternoon, we visited the Seal colony and the girls were impressed (they're all on diets to get their Rio bodies before carnival) by the fact the male seals loose half their body weight during the mating season, essentially through fighting and shagging. It's probably a diet that most Brits could sign up to. Later that evening we were treated to our first tropical thunderstorm that soaked us to the bone but which passed as quickly as it had arrived.

Our final full drive day was particularly uncomfortable as we left Patagonia for good and sweated our way through farming country known as La Pampa (the scale of farming in the country is immense - e.g. four hours of seeing nothing but uninterrupted wheat fields). The condition on the truck was stifling and there was no breeze outside, only more hot air. We stopped all too briefly in Bahia Blanco, a picturesque town with some attractive European style buildings, before free camping underneath the stars next to another petrol station (out here they acts as refuges for all sorts of long distance travellers).

Finally we made it into Buenos Aires. It took a good hour to get through the outlying suburbs, which were reminiscent of Ecuador or Peru - poorly constructed buildings overlooking bustling streets full of roadside shops and traffic. However, the centre of Buenos Aires itself compares favourably to any major European city and the resemblance to Paris is stark - it has a similar layout with long, wide open treelined boulevards, tall apartment blocks built in the same French style, so many grandiose public buildings that it isn't possible to keep count, and the same cafe, restaurant and theatre culture. However, the pace of life in B.A. is decidely more Spanish or South American. They don't eat until 9 or 10, hit the bars around midnight and don't start clubbing until 3. All this made planning our days as tourists difficult, as it was hard to keep to this rhythm and do all the sightseeing during the day - we managed to do both fairly well by having a siesta in the afternoon.

The touristy highlights of our time in Buenos Aires included an excellent city tour by a local guide, a tango show, a visit to Boca Juniors (the hometown club of Diego Maradona) and a look at Ricoletta cemetary (the resting place of Evita Peron). The rest of our time was spent happily wandering around the city, sampling the cuisine and staying out to the early hours in the bars and clubs (when we could find them!).

The first night was spent taking refuge from the sweltering heat - it was so hot and humid I was sweating just walking down the street to the first bar. That evening was spent knocking back a few well earned ice cold beers before a quiet dinner in a cafe restaurant in San Telmo.

Earlyish on our first morning we took a city tour starting in the microcentre and finishing in the Boca. Walking and taking the hundred year old metro (which still retains some of the original carriages), we saw the principal buildings around the main squares including the pink Presidential Palace. Argentina's recent troubled past is more readily visible than you might expect with plaques to political activists on the pavements, protesters gathered daily outside the Presidential Palace and the ongoing campaign of family members to find missing relatives who dissappeared during the military dictatorship. From the city centre we wandered towards the quiet suburb of San Telmo with it's antique shops and cafes, stopping off now and again to view some important buildings and pick up some history (such as the colourful involvement of the British in B.A's past). We also saw a local craftsman produce traditional cups and pipes that are used to drink mate, a local tea (a bit like a black tea) that is very popular in Argentina and Paraguay.

After some light refreshment at an excellent cafe that allegedly hadn't been renovated for decades (the paintwork was faded, the bar etched in graffiti and they still used an ancient coffee machine), we moved onto La Boca, perhaps Buenos Aires most colourful and lively Barrio. A working class suburb by the old port it was (and still is) the home to a vast array of immigrants, orignially from Spain and Italy. The buildings are all brightly coloured (a legacy of ship workers painting their houses with whatever paint remained leftover) and there are a number of outdoor tango shows and artists displaying their works for the tourists. Unfortunately, it has an unsavioury reputation at night so it is only possible to visit during the day.

La Boca is also famous for being the home of Boca Juniors and Diego Armando Maradonna. It is fair to say that whilst Argentina loves Maradonna, the people in the Boca worship him (our stadium tour guide informed us that there is actually a Maradonna religion that is practiced in a nearby province). Murals, statues and tourist tat shops compare him both to God and Che Guevara (this it seems is the highest compliment you can get in South America). We had to settle for a tour of the stadium as it is the off season in Argentina at the moment. It really is far removed from the new stadiums back home. Nestled amongst the surrounding streets it is a concrete bowl with evocative murals painted outside, vast banks of terracing with the paint peeling of and basic facilities for the players and spectators below (the players warm up in what I can only describe as a high school gym). However, it has real character and I'm sure the atmosphere in the ground during a game would be electric (apparently the fans jumping up and down cause the stands to sway 4cm during a game).

That evening we watched a traditional Tango show in Cafe Tortini, one of (if not) the oldest cafe in the city. Despite my initial scepticism, the show was a real spectacle. The best way I can describe it was that it was like a cross between a musical, variety act, opera singing, traditional music hall (now lost in the UK) and dance. I quickly came to the conclusion that Salsa is a beginners dance to learn compared to the Tango - both male and female dancers were quick stepping across the stage throwing their legs over and between those of their partners. Whilst with Salsa the worst I could do is stand on my partner's toes, with Tango there is a real danger that I give someone a good kicking. Perhaps wisely, I restricted myself to a purely watching role.

The next day was initially spent trying to avoid all the other tourists that had decended on La Ricoletta cemetary, the resting place of Evita. Her grave itself is marked by a simple plaque but the rest of the cemetary is certainly impressive with it's massive mausoleums, street names and the backdrop of the surrounding high rise buildings. The rest of the day was spent exploring the surrounding neighbourhood and resting in one of the many parks with a English language newspaper (after nearly three months it was a rare treat). The other main attraction in Recoleta is a giant metal sculpture of a flower whose petals can open and close. That evening we headed to Palermo, a quieter suburb further north that has a number of excellent restaurants and bars tucked away from the main square. We had a pleasant meal at one of them where naturally I chose the steak again (I think I managed three steaks in 36 hours whilst in B.A - it's probably an extreme version of the Atkins diet). Amusingly, the Buenos Aires Herald had a classified ad for Overeaters Anonymous, an English speaking group that meets every saturday from 1 till 2pm - I'm guessing this is for ex-pats who just can't cope with the good life out here (to be fair, I think I might need to join them if I were to stay much longer!)

My final day in Buenos Aires was initially spent wandering the ecological reserve that has been built between the recently renovated dock area and the River Plate itself (the body of water that seperates Argentina and Uruguay). Once again it was a strange experience wandering the peaceful footpaths accompagnied by joggers in the midday sun (they're all fools) with the backdrop of highrise city buildings overlooking a couple of square km of reedbeds and woods. After another excellent Asado lunch, I spent more time wandering around retracing my steps from earlier days.

That evening, we had arranged as a group to try out one of the super clubs in B.A. that had been recommended to us by a former tour member. However, it all turned out to be a bit of a farce. Having made our way to the dock area we had an insipid Mexican meal - whilst the area was pleasent enough, it struck me of all the renovation projects you see in Britain that put up appartment blocks and identikit restaurants next to a body of water. Getting into a taxi we tried to direct our none English speaking driver to find La Opera Bar near which we were told was near La Boca bus station. However, our driver was adamant that (a) there was no such place in La Boca and (b) he wasn't go the Boca at night even if it did exist. After a few frantic phone calls, we found out that we needed to go to Bocabus ferry terminal, which was by the port. Having driven around for ages, we got the driver to drop us of no more than 10m away from where he picked us up! Despite our apologies and explanation that its ok because we're British we knew he was going back home to tell his wife about the loco gringos he had in the back of his cab - "it turns out they wanted me to drive them back to the place I picked them up from"... It also turns out that the Opera Bar was closed for refurbishment.

Having finally met up with the others, we tried to find Mint, a famous club in B.A which is a long distance out of town. However, it transpires that all the cool people in Buenos Aires head out of the city in January to the beaches taking the clubs with them. Nearly all the big clubs in B.A. are closed at this time of year so we headed back to Ricoletta for a drink and then limped home to bed. Despite Buenos Aires reputation for a superb nightlife we managed to consistently avoid finding it, which was a real shame. On the first night we did managed to find a Brazilian club, which whilst it was good wasn't quite what we expected to find. Still, we retain high hopes for Rio.

Generally speaking, one of the most interesting and pleasurable parts of my time in Buenos Aires was the people watching. The women were stunning - it isn't that they are supermodels but nearly all of them have excellent physiques and are pretty. It was quite often the case that we would pause mid-sentence to watch someone going past before trying to resume our conversation. However, the men were equally as interesting. Whilst there are good looking men in B.A, a significant minority of blokes sported genuine Pat Sharp (aka gormless bloke from Fun House who pranced about with the twins) style mullets. Whilst Argentina had a reputation for harbouring former Nazis, I think it should now be known as a refuge for bad hair styles (I'm surprised I didn't see any Liverpudlian perms out here). Also, whilst the women generally remain thin, the men develop very large beer guts which seem to be a status symbol out here. In fact, in the restaurant in Palermo it was like watching the evolution of man from primate to homo sapien but in belly form as we observed the waiters of different ages.

All in all, I think everyone thoroughly enjoyed their time in Buenos Aires and it was just a pity that I didn't have longer to spend there myself. Apart from the chance to see more of the city, B.A. is also a good point from which to visit Uruguay and the picturesque town of Colonial or the capital Montevideo. Those who got the opportunity say that Colonial is well worth visiting so I'll have to roll it over for another trip. Alas, our tour waits for no man - next stop Paraguay.

---