Advertisement
Published: November 7th 2011
Edit Blog Post
After my eventful border crossing from Bolivia, my first taste of Argentina was a scenic bus journey through the northern district of Jujuy towards the city of Salta. Jujuy is famous for its Quebrada, a striking mountain range of multi-coloured rock...the best analogy I could come up with was neopolitan ice cream...quite a spectacle!
Further south, the city of Salta itself is a cluster of colonial buildings set against a mountain backdrop. The city had a really relaxed feel to it and, despite this region being home to the majority of Argentina's indigenous population, I could already feel more of a European influence. The city also had an artistic edge to it...on one particular night, I was sat in the main square enjoying a late night cup of coffee when the local opera house decided to share a rendition of "La Donna è Mobile" with the whole square...and why not! By contrast, sat in the same square the following night, the sights and sounds were slightly more boisterous as a student protest was in full flow. Never a dull moment in Salta!
From Salta, a 16 hour night bus took me south to Mendoza...and wine country! The city itself
was pleasant enough with its wide avenues and leafy squares, though it is more reknowned for its surrounding vineyards. What better place to try my first Argentinian steak and a glass or two of the local red! I decided upon the locally produced Malbec, and given its economical price tag, I was sure it must have been a half bottle. Much to me surprise / delight, the waiter duly brought a full bottle to enjoy with my succulent steak. Now my parents always taught me not to let things go to waste and my Dad would have been particularly disappointed had I not enjoyed the experience to the full...so I did! Something told me I was going to enjoy Argentina!
From Mendoza I crossed the Andes to the Chilean capital, Santiago. The Andean scenery en route was breathtaking, as we rose through verdant foothills and vineyards and up through the mighty Andes! We passed within a snowballs throw of Aconcagua (at 6962m it is the highest peak outside of the Himalayas) and I enjoyed a spectacular descent towards Santiago as the sun set and turned the surrounding mountains all shades of red.
Back when I was 13, I
remember studying a poem in Miss Brown's English class and being first introduced to imagery, hyperbole, onomatopoeia and the like. The subject of the poem was the oppressive regime of General Pinochet and, although I can't for the life of me remember the poet nor the name of the poem, one particular line has stayed with me; the comparison between Pinochet's insurmountable regime and the "massive grey wall of the Andes towering over the city". This line certianly caught my imagination and I often wondered what this "grey wall" must have looked like and, indeed, what life must have been like for the Chileans duing the dark days of Pinochet's regime.
The sight of the world's second highest mountain range towering over a bustling metropolis renders Santiago unparalleled with regards to its skyline. I arrived at the bus terminal at 8.30 on a manic Friday evening, as the locals all departed for the coast or the mountains for the holiday weekend. After battling my way through the crowds, I caught the metro towards the city centre. I exited the metro and found myself in the midst of a sea of people, hooters, banners, megaphones...as I was to discover, the
Salta
San Francisco Church at night Chileans are a very politically active people! This was a student protest (they had been on strike from university for the previous 4 months) against a proposed hike in tuition fees. The situation mirrored that in the UK earlier this year although, as I was to learn from my friend Jose (see blog No.2 ¨The Equator¨) the feeling of injustice is intensified by the inverse relationship between quality of learning and price. Thankfully this protest passed relatively peacefully, however, in the weeks preceeding my visit there had been violent clashes and, after my visit, I read that a student had been killed by a stray bullet fired by police.
I spent most of Saturday afternoon in Santiago´s national history museum which houses some fantastic artwork and artefacts from pre-colonial times to, almost, the present day. Unfortunately, the story ended in 1973 with the apparent (and recently confirmed) suicide of Salvador Allende, as Pinochet's troops stormed the Presidential Palace. To my disappointment, Chile's darker, more recent history is reserved for another museum. The final artefact on show are the broken glasses Allende was reportedly wearing on the day he died. After snapping a pic of these glasses I had a
Salta
By night little lense trouble of my own as my camera ran out of battery and I had left my charger in Mendoza. So for the rest of my Chile trip, I'll just have to rely on memory!
On the Sunday I took a trip to the coastal town of Valparaiso. Before the construction of the Panama Canal, Valparaiso was one of the most important ports in the Pacific Ocean. This legacy is evident today as the town displays an intriguing mix of heavy maritime industry married with quaint, colourful houses perched on the cliffs overlooking the bay. Scaling the steep, winding, mural adorned lanes, I arrived at ¨La Sebastiana¨, the Valparaiso residence of acclaimed Chilean poet and Nobel Prize Winner, Pablo Neruda. Since his death, this boat shaped house with spectacular views over the bay has become a museum. The tour was a fascinating insight into his eccentricities and gave some idea of the inspiration behind his work.
Walking through the centre of Valparaiso is like stepping back in time, with much of the architecture dating from the town's heyday during the late 19th and early 20th century. Many of the shops, bars and restaurants seem to harp after
that era as well. One bar in particular, Bar Cinzano, was like being teleported back 100 years! Dimly lit, decades old photos of the good old days when many a famous Chilean would frequent the place, and bar staff of a certain vintage combined to create a unique ambience. On Sunday night, the bar was packed with a mix of tourists and locals of all ages eagerly anticipating the main event; a live tango act comprising two old fellas and a female vocalist (who I'm sure would have been a bit of a diva in her day!) with a combined age of around 312! The poor old chap on the accordion looked like he'd have preferred to be nowhere else but wrapped up in bed. I'm pretty sure I caught him dozing off during an interlude! Despite this, the music and the singing were fantastic and contributed to a memorable night.
The following day, I had hoped to travel back to Mendoza, although more border problems ensued as snow had closed the mountain pass between Argentina and Chile. As a result, I was stuck in Santiago for a further 5 days. Thankfully my good friend Jose kindly put me
Mendoza
Vineyards with the Andes towering in the background up in his flat, where we enjoyed a few nights talking student protests, Chilean political history with, of course, some football thrown in! The following Saturday, I finally made it back to Mendoza for a one night stop-over before setting off for Buenos Aires...
Advertisement
Tot: 0.08s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 7; qc: 44; dbt: 0.0508s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Martin Dunlop
non-member comment
A +
Top marks for mentioning Miss Brown in a blog about Argentina. Definitely worth a mention.