Advertisement
Published: November 30th 2010
Edit Blog Post
Esteros de Ibera
Marathon days and nights on buses brought me from Curitiba in southern Brazil to Mercedes, Corrientes, Argentina, the jumping-off point for the remote Esteros del Ibera. I'd arrived on census day, and the city was deserted--everyone was home, waiting to be counted. I met a young, Swedish chimney sweeper, who'd just gotten off the swankier "cama (bed)" bus, and together, we set out for the hostel.
There, we fixed the usual hostel pasta fare with a woman who was writing a book on the life of cows around the world--so great the variety of people I meet in hostels. The next day, he and I boarded a rickety, lime-green bus held together with duct tape. For four hours we bounced the 120 kilometers over a washboard dirt road past nothing more than huge, 1.5-meter tall rheas (ostrich-like birds), storks and scrub. Clearly, we were entering a different world.
We arrived in the isolated, dirt-road village of Colonia Carlos Pelligrini, to find the hostel full--oops. We headed to Los Amigos, the cheapest hospedaje/pension in town, where we both got our own room for 40 pesos--$10 a night. So what if it has only cold water--I was in
heaven. I've been on the road for three months, and finally, I've got my own room.
Not only that, the normally frugal/inedible Argentine breakfast was supplemented with oranges from the trees outside, raw milk from a neighbor's cow, and eggs from the chickens who woke me in the mornings. I decided to stay, finally view and sort my photos and write this blog. Friendly people, a room of my own, and a dirt-road town--heaven!
I ended up staying for two weeks and meeting lots of characters around town. Since I ask a lot of questions, and everyone knows I'm writing, I'm known as the American journalist--pretty flattering!
I'd come to the esteros, a 13,000-square kilometer wetlands, to view the amazing wildlife. As Africa is famous for mammals, South America is the center for birds. More than 350 species of birds live in or pass throught these wetlands. As in Brazil, one can see many more birds in the Pantanal wetlands than in the Amazon where they are more hidden by the jungle.
While I saw a lot of wildlife on trails and roads around the town, the best spotting was on small boats that plied the
lagoons. At times, we entered areas that were solid with water hyacinths that parted for the boat, then closed again behind us. Beautiful sunsets accompanied us back.
The esteros are a magical waterworld fed primarily by rainwater, where the only sounds are birds, frogs and insects (rather like my Santa Barbara canyon home). The shallow water is dotted with floating islands of foliage that provide food and refuge for the wildlife.
There, we saw lots of birds--familiar egrets, cormorants, heron, storks, and cranes, swallow-tailed kites, ducks as well as huge ones new to me--the southern screamer and the biggest flying bird, the jabiru which dwarfed the hefty capybaras that passed it. It's spring and lots of birds had chicks and squawked at us to keep our distance.
The wetlands harbor not only birds, but also orangish marsh deer--South America's largest deer, mellow, adorable capybaras--the world's largest rodent who is equally home on land and in the water, and 2-meter long caimen silently submerged with their eyes watching us. In one area, thousands of fat, juicy spiders spin webs in the marshes each night before they become breakfast for the birds in the morning.
The marshes were
Mellow Capybaras
Hanging with the family surrounded by forests with trails where I've seen howler monkeys playing above me, iguanas who sunned themselves on the trails, and marsh deer, snakes and birds. Giant toads hung out in my pension, and fireflies sparkled the night. Truly magical.
I'd come at a perfect time--it was warm, but not hot and humid, and the summer rains that would disperse a lot of the animals had barely begun though we had a few magnificent thunder and lightning storms.
The esteros had been occupied by indigenous people until they were driven out by the Spanish. Since then, hunters,after caimen and capybara pelts, and their families lived primitive existences here. Then in 1987, the area was turned into a regional park/refuge and hunting was forbidden. Life became even more difficult for the trappers. In 1996, the first lodge was built, and tourists began to trickle in. Now, the former hunters, who know the area so well, have become tourist guides, and more tourist facilities are being built. Still, the area is isolated and relatively undeveloped.
In tiny, remote Carlos Peligrini, the largest town on the esteros with about eight hundred souls, time stops and life has a different, enduring
pace, marked more by the passing of seasons than by hours. Halloween, which was so hyped in the stores in Brazil didn't touch them here--I didn't know it had passed until someone said it was the second of November.
Nestor Kerchner, the husband of Argentina's current president, Cristina Fernandez de Kirshner, was slated to be the next president, but had died unexpectedly the day I arrived in Mercedes. There, it was the topic of conversation, but here, his passing meant nothing. Policies from the capital rarely reach here.
For November 2nd, the Day of the Dead, the townspeople had gone to the cemetery at sunrise to light candles on the graves. I walked the goodly distance there a midday, and found a cemetery only half-full of tombs--plenty of room for growth. Graves were everything from a stick in the ground to wrought-iron crosses, cement tombs, some painted blue and the really upscale ones tiled. My favorites had the photos of the departed.
On my way to the cemetery, I passed lots of animals--sheep, cows, horses all grazing freely, in the streets, people's yards and the town's grassy plaza. Fences were suggestions that most of them ignored and
walked through. Kids rode horses past the adobe houses, and dogs slept in the middle of the road.
A couple of times I came across pairs of southern lapwings, birds who turned out to be fiercely protective of their nests and dive bombed me extremely closely. Luckily, I got a great shot of one coming in on me. At my hospedaje, I was told that I was fortunate--they've taken out people's eyes. Anything for a good photo!
Here in Carlos Pelligrini, there aren't really any stores, just kiosks that all sell the same few items. I could only get carrots and onions to go into my lentils or garbanzos. Then I learned that Mabel, the owner of my Los Amigos had a big garden. She may not have known where California was or who Obama was, but she grew fantastic organic veggies and fruit that she let me pick. Like many who were born here, she'd visited a couple of cities, but disliked them, preferring the slower-paced life here.
One night, a new friend, Javier, the manager of a swanky resort, invited me to a parrilla, the famous Argentine barbeque. So, finally, I tried some meat--baby goat
and piglet leg. While they were ok, I really preferred the manioc and green salad. Now I don't have to feel as if I need to try meat again in meat-famous Argentina--whew. I did however, enjoy the great Argentine wine as much as anyone.
Next, I'll head back to Mercedes, so I can post this blog (no internet out here). Theoretically, I'm then heading to Rosario, a big city. However, a part of me now wants to skip the city and head for a small town with thermal pools that I heard of. Who knows what the future will bring?
Advertisement
Tot: 0.487s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 38; qc: 177; dbt: 0.3449s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.6mb