into Southern South America: Argentina and Chile

---

M writes: After the most horrendous 12hr bus journey from Potosi (Bolivia) we were mightily looking forward to arriving in what we had been told what a relatively comfortable part of South America: Argentina. But "fresh" off the bus, first we had to deal with customs and immigration in Villazon (Bol), involving joining a queue of literally hundreds of traders who constantly cross the border to sell their wares. Fortunately we were soon spotted by an immigration official who came and took our passports somewhere and disappeared, which is when we realised everything the books/websites tell you - never do this. Anyway, he returned, fortunately, and we crossed to La Quiaca in Northern Argentina (love these border crossings by foot!) where the police were far more formal, inspecting luggage minutely and remaining stony-faced throughout proceedings. I was reminded of Argentina's recent history - military and police none too popular and "disappearings", and we put up and shut up til we were through!

First cafe experience in La Quiaca was most welcome: old-fashioned place with old-skool coffe-maker, weighing scales, lots of greaseproof paper and soda water in bottles and for the first time in an age: great coffee! Sitting in the cafe, we realised that we had missed our bus as the clock behind the counter showed a change in time-zone - whoops! So we took the next bus down to Tilcara village in Jujuy province, 4 hours through a cactus-strewn desert and the new sight of identical little brick houses each with a water cistern of some description on top: something Bolivians certainly don't have. We found the stories of luxurious Argentinian buses to be not only an illusion and sat back and enjoyed the trip. Apart from police boarding the bus for perfunctory searches several times, waking people up just to stick their hands down the side of their seats etc. ; people seem to be used to it and nobody complains. The controls are supposedly because the Argentinians (authorities and public alike) do not put up with coca, so we are surprised to see plenty of Indian women chewing coca leaves in the pretty market square in Tilcara. The village is picturesque and hot and we find a rustic room, all in stone and wood, in a "poussada" a little way out of town to rest, then go for dinner: Laurent's first parilla (massive plate of meat cooked on Argentinian bbbq). We meet a middle-aged Canadian couple who have been in Argentina a few weeks; they are so interested and shocked by our stories of the mines and transport hell in Bolivia that we realise this country truly is a whole lot different.

Breakfast is a sorry, sorry affair in Argentina. Involves a dry piece of biscuit of bread and a coffee bag, like a tea bag but with no detectable taste. So we head off for a 2nd brekkie - again, fantastic in a cafe. Tilcara is known for its Pukara (ancient fort) and has a great museo archeologico containing relics and remains from the surrounding area, so we visit both. Museum great for such a tiny town, but we are disappointed that the famous San Pedro de Atacama mummy has been removed, we discover because the local population found the display of human remains indecent. Travesty! The Pukara is a beautiful walk and well restored by Buenos Aires university, and includes a huge and varied garden - a cactii section, foods section, medicinal plants section etc.

We take an afternoon bus south to "Salta La Linda" or Salta "the fair", a description we found to be largely untrue - pretty bland and concrete. Our hostal is a small grey concrete box with no decor. Apart from the largeish Spanish-style square with some imposing C19 buildings, the best thing about Salta is the prevalence of beautiful and scented trees of purple flowers everywhere - mmm! The street of supposed "penas" (folk bars and clubs) is totally geared towards tourists and doesn't feel authentic, but we enjoy some Argentinian red wine all the same. The next morning, we enjoy coffee at an old-fashioned place on the square, where the businessmen and gauchos (well, men wearing cowboy boots anyway)...all seem to have appointments with their various shoe-shiners - this feels authentic at least! We rush up the funicular to see if Salta is any Fairer from a great height, and find that the flowers and blossom at the top are again the best things about the town.

We decide a night in Salta is enough and head south to Cafayate, through the incredible scenery of the Quebrada de las Conchas - a stunning, colourful gorge surrounded by wild-west scenery. Though we are a little disappointed that there are still goats and llamas everywhere in this part of Argentina and no sign of any gauchos! The bus is really slow (4 hrs) as it winds into every town, village and hamlet, picking up locals and school-children; they all seem to get off in the middle of nowhere and disappear into the bushes - this is really rural stuff, a step up from growing up on the moors in the Peak District I think, and that was tough at times! Cafayate is a touristy but tranquil wine-producing town nestled in a valley. We end up in one of our finest hostal-finds: Rusty-K, with a sunny garden, incredibly friendly and helpful staff and simple, v. cheap rooms. One of the guys helps Lozz set up a horseriding session with a local ranchero for the morning and we go to the cafe-filled plaza for some local white wine: Torrontes is their speciality. In honour of the fact that there are about 3 butchers on every street here, and the food market is essentially a dozen meat stalls with some ragged fly-covered vegetables, L indulges in more bloody steak and red wine.

Next morning, M explores the shops a little more but finds them to be surprisingly similar to the poorer countries we have visited: poorly stocked with lots of empty shelves and flies all over the produce. I try again to get money out of the bank as we haven't been able to get more than 100 quid so far in Argentina, but again the banks are a joke with queues of dozens of people and withdrawal limits of 100 - odd since Argentina is so much more costly than its neighbours. Anyway, I enjoy the local woodworkers fashioning fantastic shapes out of entire trees in the main square, and the dark (black?) parrots squarking away until Laurent returns from his horsing about. Reunited, we drink Salta beer, enjoy amazing empanadas (to become a theme in our stay here!), and gorgeous red wine ice cream and dulce de leche ice-cream. Dulce is surely one of the few culinary delights in Argentina sweet, sticky and rich - mmm. Wine is pretty good though - we visit the organic winery - Nanni - for tasting and buy a Tannat - their local rich and very alcoholic red.

Wandering back through the park there are loads of people sitting on benches and drinking yerba: this is a type of herb which is drunk in an infusion by Argentinians everywhere. There are hot water points all over the place and people carry little flasks of hot water around along with their little silver gourds and straws to indulge in this drink very regularly. The Argentinians with whom we did the Inca trail had even brought all this paraphernalia with them on the trek! And people take the piss out of the English for tea-drinking craziness!

Our last day in lovely Cafayate is spent drinking Tannat, eating empanadas and visitng more wineries for tastings - a lazy day. We notice that there are lots of husky type dogs around the town, and I realise the one I saw at the border was not blind, but blue-eyed! Must be due to the relative proximity to Antarctica. The moon looks massive and throws interesting reflections tonight - apparently the area is known for its moonscapes. This reminds us we really need to go to bed as we are up at 4am for the only bus to the nearest big city, (strange timetabling) Tucuman. Breakfast is, yes you've guessed it - Tannat red and empanadas; we don't care about the strange looks from our fellow passengers. We travel through Tafi del Valle about halfway through the 7hr journey and it reminds us both of the peak district with its distinctive stone, green valleys and "edges". Every single settlement has Pepsi and Coca-Cola branding everywhere - grrr!. Some of it is quite vintage though, so an improvement!

We then have to spend the day in Tucuman, which we have read is pretty industrial and not worth a trip, because there is no bus to Mendoza until the evening. Tucuman is incredibly hot - about 40 degrees - but we enjoy wandering around and are quite taken with the gritty city. heat exhausted, we take refuge in Carrefour supermarket, which we are surprised to discover, and marvel at all the products you can buy here that we have been deprived of further north; nevertheless most of the food is packaged or flourescent in colour or very articificial looking. We realise there has been a time-zone change and rush off to the bus station armed with food for the 14hr journey. It turns out we didn't need the food because there was loads served on the bus. And loads of loud mobile phone music. and shouting people. and loud children - BOO! Argentinians are not very self-aware!

Arrived in Mendoza early in the morning, having been awoken about 4 times by police getting on the bus, turning all the lights on, rummaging about a bit, then getting off. Nobs! Again foxed by the time-zone, we settle in the station cafe to decide our next move and decide it's respectable to order a beer; the funny look tells us to check the time - it's 10am...Mendoza has a coolish street of bars & restaurants where there are several hostals but most are fully booked so we trek a bit til we find one, then we have a good meal al fresco, making the most of M's cafe culture. This time, urged on by L's protestations that all meat must be free-range in Argentina, and my tiredness, I try his steak and it is good and bloody. But I haven't had it since coz it made me feel a bit uncomfortable not knowing its provenance.

The Plaza de la Independencia in Mendoza is equidistant to 4 other pretty squares of which Plaza de Espana is the prettiest with azulejos seats and tiles and loads of flowers; we wander a bit. We are accosted by a middle-aged Dutch guy who tells us, reluctantly so it seems, about how he has been robbed, has no credit cards or cash, embassy is closed, can't get a room etc and I fleetingly feel sorry for him. Then realise we have been duped and that Laurent was right to hastily judge him our very first hoaxster! Thank god we didnt' fall for it. Before retiring, we have a crap meal - food in Argentina doesn't seem to be all that unless you only eat steak - and return to our hostel where we don't get no sleep all night coz of stoopid beer-swilling 18 year old traveller types outside our door - grrr! After a truly hideous brek of cold coffee with pre-added sugar & dry scrap of bread, we set off to find another hostal. Although the streets are dead in this town all the hostals seem to be full! We finally find lovely Alamo hostal and after a trying quest for the internet in a town full of phone-centres we eat another substandard meal then Laurent courageously heads for the city park where he witnesses some community line-dancing and M catches up on sleep with cable TV. Before sleep we dine on disgusting "camembert" from Carrefour and drop off feeling quite unwell!

Next day we leave for Chile - we are excited about meeting Esther and James in Valparaiso - yippee! Enjoyed an 8 hr journey full of stunning scenery and hairpin bends. After the obligatory stop at the border to be irritated by Chilean intimidators/immigration officials (cue thoughts of Pinochet and military regimes etc - we kept quiet again!) we enjoyed a completely different type of scenery - Chile is noticeably far wealthier and more like the West. Farmland seems so organised with varied crops and animals. But people-wise, we look like gringos again, whereas in Argentina we had pretty much blended into an exptremely diverse population.

We arrive at La Maja Hostal early evening and E&J are awaiting us - we have the lovely old building to ourselves, save 2 quiet French sisters who appear at breakfast the next morning. J&E are visibly shaken by their interactions with the Proprietress, who we discover, is quite frankly crazy, rattling on constantly in Spanish: "you have no idea what I am saying, oh dear, oh dear etc" ! but lovely all the same. We all enjoy a great meal with sommelier recommending a good Carminieres red wine, new to all of us, and very good.

Next day (17/11) it's our 12th (yikes!) anniversary and we enjoy it in Valparaiso - faded charm of coloured houses spilling down the hills to the port. The town was a major Chilean port and there are still some huge army vessels there (its an offence to photograph them which naturally did not entice Laurent and James to do so, oh no...) and some imposing stone buildings along the waterfront. There are UNESCO protected C19 funicular lifts up the hill across the town and we feel obliged to take one of the shaky contraptions; some of us are alarmed. There is meant to be an art trail of graffiti up here and there is some but no better than all over town, or outside our hotel where there's some great wall-art. We have lunch in a crap uni canteen and when we emerge the sun has finally come out - we have been a mite disappointed that whilst it is 35 degrees in Santiago down the road, here it is misty and quite cold, making the beach rather out of the question. Never mind - we again enjoyed a fantastic dinner in a crab and venison restaurant (excepting full-on chocolate sauce on James's steak) and to bed happy.

Next day was Laurent's 34th Birthday and we embarrassed him with crap gifts (well, we don't have much space) and singing at breakfast. Usual orange squash and nescaf not quite the birthday brek he had in mind, but we take him to the beach in Vina del Mar - 10 mins away in the train, to make him happy. Vina is meant to be the Monaco of Chile; it's not really that swish but characterful and OK beach. The 2 of us brave the sea - at least it's easier getting out when it's cold outside! After massive icecreams on the boardwalk we take the train home. I make a tourist turnstile error and we have to pay again to release Lozz, which gives him birthday anger so he goes to Cafe Ingles traditional old bar, to burn off that anger with James. Dinner is another great affair - copious tapas, more Carminieres red and weirdly lemony Sauvignon Blanc, followed by cake & candles and of course, more embarrassing singing. Laurent is not really in any state to feel embarrassment and drags James out to a kareoke bar where bizarrely the owner of the restaurant is to be found. there are tales to be told the following day.

Next day: oh dear, can't rouse the boys, and our bonkers Proprietress is dismayed and waltzing around in a state of concern. She heard them come in at 5...so the morning involves gently packing and taking the bus to Santiago. Sadly, on arrival, the reservation has messed up and Lozz and I don't have one so we end up down the road in a hideous and unfriendly place with a tacky 80s black acrylic bed which would not look out of place in one of those shops on Stoke Newington High Strret - many of you will understand what this means. In-built lighting too!Santiago is very hot, buzzy and friendly and our area, Cerro Santa Lucia, is cool and quirky, so we endeavour to forget about the hotel. After eating as much cheese as possible on pizza (god, we have missed it!), we have a drink in E&J's lively hotel bar along with their favourite 3-fingered barman and salsa musician singing along to her casio keyboard; lively and hysterical on our cheese-high! We are very sad to say goodbye to Esther and James, who are off to Buenos Aires tomorrow (we are off to New Zealand).

Our final day in South America is pretty good in Chile - Santiago is concrete, but buzzy and atmospheric and we like! Walk up Cerro Santa Lucia through the Japanese gardens for a good view of the sprawl, then wander around town and appreciate how most of the shops are not chainey - more boutiques and independent department stores: lucky them. There's such a stark contrast between Chile and the rest of S America: wealthy, cool kidz, proper toilets with flushes and everything!, good food, but absolutely loads of stray dogs :-( Our final meal is at the central market which serves all manner of fish and seafood, some of it looking like alien life-forms! Chilean people are supposed to speak "lazily" and indeed the market guys are quite tricky to understand, but they're friendly.

At the airport we narrowly miss an upgrade to first class - the desk asked for 1 person and next in-line was Laurent, but kindly he stayed with me. Fool! We asked if they could squeeze two but no can do - considered screaming and begging, but in the end settled for economy and ended up in crappest seats at very rear of plane next to toilets and 2 very loud Aussie guys talking through the night: 13 hours. You can't even take any water on LAN flights so we were really thirsty all night and all they had was orange squash - poo. It was 20 November but we arrived in Auckland on 22nd (weird shit!) so you will excuse our losing one day on this blog - next entry coming soon.

---