Cordoba
Cordoba is known for its UNESCO world-heritage site status and its many prestigious universities, particularly the O.G. of Argentine universities, the Jesuit University that was among the first in South America. This university was later shut down but then reopened a hundred years or so later, after the Spanish crown - which had kicked the Jesuits out of all of Latin America - no longer controlled the country.
In Argentina, it is also known for the beauty of its residents, if such a thing is even possible in that country (for those that don't know, Argentines are considered attractive despite their preference for the mullet haircut).
My personal response to Cordoba is disappointment: although there are some nice areas of historic buildings, most of the city is quite modern. This isn't to say that attending the university int he historic buildings wouldn't be spectacular, it's just that relative to the size of the city (1 million) a few building don't really weigh in heavily. As for the cordobesas - because i was only in town for a short while, and during the week, i really didn't get to meet any, since most of downtown is full of students who come from all over the country. Moreover, my argie friends tell me that what makes them sexy are their accent and inflection in speech. As a result, I think that special something is unlikely to be picked up on by foreigners. This reminded me of one of the many lessons gleaned from all those anthropology classes I took as part of my major: Sex and sexuality with all they entail are, like race, cultural constructs.
Also, the city sounded like it was in the middle of a civil war. There were constantly loud bangs that sounded like cannon shots. The reason for this was an ongoing protest by remis drivers, who blocked roads with their vehicles, burnt tires on the road, thew eggs at those remises that didn't join their protest, and burnt tires in the middle of intersections. They also besieged the municipal government's building so there was a constant stand-off between drivers and heavily armed riot police. That's when they weren't sitting on curbs drinking fernet and cola and verbally harassing the female traffic wardens.
For whatever Cordoba lacked otherwise, it made up for in the people I met. Principally, there were Paul, Frank and Kendal. Frank and Paul are British, Kendal is Australian, and Frank and Kendal are engaged. The two of them are travelling around the world from London on their way to Oz, where they will be married. Paul decided to join them for some time in Latin America as a way to spend time with them. Anyway, they are buena onda as they say in Argentina. The last evening in town, before catching our respective buses, we went out for a steak dinner. The food was delicious, and the steaks were huge - so large in fact that I couldn't finish mine or I would have missed my bus, which I just barely made as it was. I think this was the best steak I had in my entire time in Argentina. And as Frank pointed out regarding the size of our bife de chorizos (sirloin steaks): "It was about the size of a newborn baby...... roughly."
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Hard feelings?
The Argentines are none-too-happy about how IMF support eroded their country.
At least that's how they see it. Under President Menem in the 1990s, Argentina pursued an open economic policy that favored foreign direct investment. As it turned out, many businesses were bought up, and so the Argentines feel that they were forced to sell out on their own assets to protect the IMF loans, which eventually they ended up defaulting on anyway.
However, I think economists see the situation somewhat differently: It was the unsustainable currency-exchange board that locked the Arg. Peso 1:1 with the US$ that ran the country into ruin, because businesses' costs weren't equal to actual value. Moreover, the corruption surrounding the abandonment of the fixed rate angered many, but was no more than emblematic of the great corruption under Menem's economic regime. But when everyday Argentines saw their assets depreciate by 70% in 24 hours, saw their bank accounts frozen so the government could appropriate the money in a last-ditch effort to service debts, saw the political leaders and their cronies flee with immense wealth, and saw their once wealthy country decimated, factories shut, the public sector's workers unpaid for months, and no politicians willing to step up to the challenge, that they came to associate all these policies - whether good or bad, actually imposed by the IMF or not - with that organization and rejected it.
Now I can see both sides: On the one hand, I understand the value of the IMF as a last-resort lender to countries at risk for debt default. I also understand criticism of the IMF that says in the case of Argentina, it should have force the Menem government to give up the fixed exchange rate, as it simply wasn't viable in the long run. What's the point of structural adjustment if you aren't willing to make the dumbest of all ideas part of history?
Well,regardless of what I think, those former middle-class teachers and professionals now living on the street in Argentina have little love for the IMF. It has some of the best educated cab drivers in the world - often university educated, articulate, travelled and intelligent. But because all of this, popular culture in Argentina remains angry at the IMF. Just check out the above artwork, displayed at Mendoza's municipal museum for modern art, and entitled The Queen of the IMF.
Bingo and other on-board entertainment
So on my bus from Mendoza to Cordoba - which despite the poor geographic logic of going there before heading to Buenos Aires was my next stop - we spent the first hour playing. In this case, we played a bastardized form of bingo that took about 5 times as long as it normally does, because before the bus steward (yup, like on a plane) made the passengers guess what number he had drawn before actually calling out the number.
The above is just one of the many forms of "entertainment" provided on public transport in Latin America. here's a short list of others:
Chile - Steven Sigal movies; best when 3 are played immediately in a row, revealing that the story line is always the same: terrorists threaten America, Steven kicks ass despite impossible odds.
Argentina - by far the best movies and entertainment; if you're lucky, you will catch both a good movies (as in: from the last 6 months and running for an Oscar) and an aspiring stand-up comic - the steward.
Bolivia - indio-pop music blared on bad speakers for a long time against the wishes of every single passenger. Another highlight is Bolivia cinema, although this cannot be found on the buses, which have neither TVs nor bathrooms, but is played on the trains. These movies are just plain horrible, make no sense, and they can't edit sound, so you have no idea what people are saying since it's all filmed in the altiplano, and all you hear is the wind on the microphones. For visual entertainment on buses, here are your options: Watch the landscape go by - very amazing; play spot'em - from whom is the smell originating, and what is it? Fecal matter? Coca leaf? Urine? Industrial solvent?; Watch people pee - the lack of sanitation in this country means people take care of business outside, whether your fellow passengers or people on the side of the road. My favorite so far was a little boy in Potosí, in the middle of the city street, pants around his ankles, scratching his head and his butt. He turned to walk away and fell into the dirt. Priceless.
I'll let you all know what they do in Peru when I get there.
So on my bus from Mendoza to Cordoba - which despite the poor geographic logic of going there before heading to Buenos Aires was my next stop - we spent the first hour playing. In this case, we played a bastardized form of bingo that took about 5 times as long as it normally does, because before the bus steward (yup, like on a plane) made the passengers guess what number he had drawn before actually calling out the number.
The above is just one of the many forms of "entertainment" provided on public transport in Latin America. here's a short list of others:
Chile - Steven Sigal movies; best when 3 are played immediately in a row, revealing that the story line is always the same: terrorists threaten America, Steven kicks ass despite impossible odds.
Argentina - by far the best movies and entertainment; if you're lucky, you will catch both a good movies (as in: from the last 6 months and running for an Oscar) and an aspiring stand-up comic - the steward.
Bolivia - indio-pop music blared on bad speakers for a long time against the wishes of every single passenger. Another highlight is Bolivia cinema, although this cannot be found on the buses, which have neither TVs nor bathrooms, but is played on the trains. These movies are just plain horrible, make no sense, and they can't edit sound, so you have no idea what people are saying since it's all filmed in the altiplano, and all you hear is the wind on the microphones. For visual entertainment on buses, here are your options: Watch the landscape go by - very amazing; play spot'em - from whom is the smell originating, and what is it? Fecal matter? Coca leaf? Urine? Industrial solvent?; Watch people pee - the lack of sanitation in this country means people take care of business outside, whether your fellow passengers or people on the side of the road. My favorite so far was a little boy in Potosí, in the middle of the city street, pants around his ankles, scratching his head and his butt. He turned to walk away and fell into the dirt. Priceless.
I'll let you all know what they do in Peru when I get there.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
On Mendoza
Just a really quick note on Mendoza: It's a really beautiful place, I happen to think it's one of the more attractive places around. It's not that the architecture is spectacular, because it most certainly isn't, but rather each street is lined by trees, there are sort of streams that run in gullies along the sidewalks, and they have some very nice plazas and parks evenly distributed throughout the city. Particularly the central plaza is nice: there is a free museum underground displaying modern art by various Mendocinos, and outside there is an open air market that has artisan crafts from jewelry to bottle holders. At the same time, bands play in the little amphitheater, and various street performers are all around the plaza, showing of their various acts. It's really nice in the evenings.
Just a really quick note on Mendoza: It's a really beautiful place, I happen to think it's one of the more attractive places around. It's not that the architecture is spectacular, because it most certainly isn't, but rather each street is lined by trees, there are sort of streams that run in gullies along the sidewalks, and they have some very nice plazas and parks evenly distributed throughout the city. Particularly the central plaza is nice: there is a free museum underground displaying modern art by various Mendocinos, and outside there is an open air market that has artisan crafts from jewelry to bottle holders. At the same time, bands play in the little amphitheater, and various street performers are all around the plaza, showing of their various acts. It's really nice in the evenings.
I'm cured!
Ever since arriving in South America, other travelers have been telling me to chill out - apparently I was constantly on the move, or when I was sitting, I couldn't sit still. Anyway, I think this is because of all the work I did in the year before travelling, with balancing IFPRI/Google/ultimate, and then all the double shifts in London. Once I got down here, I always felt that if I wasn't doing something, I was disappointing myself and others, which is a pretty ridiculous notion since this is my trip and I can do or not do whatever I please. As you might imagine, this made the travelling quite grating, and not so pleasant at times, since I always was exhausted.
Once I checked into the hostel in Mendoza, I met a bunch of Chileans and Argentines who were just relaxing in their last days before university or job vacations were to end. After watching me for a day or two, they took it upon themselves to make me relax and get into a more latino pace of life. Well, thanks to their intervention, I have since been able to just hang for a day, not stress too much and maybe just spend an afternoon watching Champions League matches and having a cold beer.
In continuing this theme, I went to the mountains above Mendoza, ad stayed in a small town by the name of Uspallata, where I pretty much just read, lounged in the little river they have, and one day made an excursion to the Puente del Inca, a rock and sulfur formation that spans a river about 2800 meters above sea level. The myth is that the Inca was bringing his sick son to a healer but couldn't cross the river, so his soldiers formed a human bridge over the gap and then turned into the rock formation. It also has some hot thermal sulfur baths that are great for the skin. Or at least had....
Upon arriving at the Puente, it turned out that it has been closed for foot traffic for about a year and a half now. Apparently, the 300,000 visitors a year crossing the bridge have structurally weakened it, and they fear eventual collapse. Moreover, because the thermal baths are on the other side, there really isn't much to do there anymore. So, if you're going to Mendoza - make the Puente part of one of those all day tours where you'll only spend 20 or 30 minutes there.
Ever since arriving in South America, other travelers have been telling me to chill out - apparently I was constantly on the move, or when I was sitting, I couldn't sit still. Anyway, I think this is because of all the work I did in the year before travelling, with balancing IFPRI/Google/ultimate, and then all the double shifts in London. Once I got down here, I always felt that if I wasn't doing something, I was disappointing myself and others, which is a pretty ridiculous notion since this is my trip and I can do or not do whatever I please. As you might imagine, this made the travelling quite grating, and not so pleasant at times, since I always was exhausted.
Once I checked into the hostel in Mendoza, I met a bunch of Chileans and Argentines who were just relaxing in their last days before university or job vacations were to end. After watching me for a day or two, they took it upon themselves to make me relax and get into a more latino pace of life. Well, thanks to their intervention, I have since been able to just hang for a day, not stress too much and maybe just spend an afternoon watching Champions League matches and having a cold beer.
In continuing this theme, I went to the mountains above Mendoza, ad stayed in a small town by the name of Uspallata, where I pretty much just read, lounged in the little river they have, and one day made an excursion to the Puente del Inca, a rock and sulfur formation that spans a river about 2800 meters above sea level. The myth is that the Inca was bringing his sick son to a healer but couldn't cross the river, so his soldiers formed a human bridge over the gap and then turned into the rock formation. It also has some hot thermal sulfur baths that are great for the skin. Or at least had....
Upon arriving at the Puente, it turned out that it has been closed for foot traffic for about a year and a half now. Apparently, the 300,000 visitors a year crossing the bridge have structurally weakened it, and they fear eventual collapse. Moreover, because the thermal baths are on the other side, there really isn't much to do there anymore. So, if you're going to Mendoza - make the Puente part of one of those all day tours where you'll only spend 20 or 30 minutes there.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Patience, my friend
Well, so I took a 20 hour bus ride from Bariloche to Mendoza. Or at least it was supposed to be 20 hours. Unfortunately, I awoke in the middle of the night to a stopped bus without heating a.k.a. it was freezing, even wrapped up in 2 sweatshirts, a winter jacket and a winter hat. Moreover, I had no idea why we were stopped.
When I looked outside, I saw that we were on the border of the Province of Mendoza. There were a bunch of signs welcoming people to the province, and signs indicating that spraying had to be undertaken to ward off any transfer of agricultural diseases from province to province. Since it was the middle of the night, I assumed that we were standing because the bus, which had been falling further and further behind schedule during the previous day (for instance, departure had been scheduled for 11 am but didn't happen until 11.45) had simply failed to arrive on time for the spraying and was now waiting for the station to open the next morning. Peeved and to cold to sleep, I resigned myself to reading crack - Harry Potter.
However, when these exceedingly annoying German-speaking girls from the back of the bus asked me what was going on, I vented my frustration over Argentine tardiness in about a 3 minute soliloquy about how the companies need to get their act together. It wasn't pretty, but at least I delivered in German so no one else understood, and even the girls, who had been mocking everything Argentine for the past 12 hours or so (this is what made them annoying) looked taken aback by my reaction.
About 90 minutes later I felt like a total jackass. The on board steward (like on a plane) came upstairs and told us that the replacement bus had arrived, so we could change buses and continue onward. Apparently, we had been stopped due to a mechanical fault in the motor, not incompetence. It made me feel really bad that I had gotten so upset over something that wasn't the fault of either driver or steward.
More importantly, it showed me that I still need to go a long way in relaxing and accepting the daily problematic of travelling in Latin America. In this sense, it was a major eye-opener. And since then, I've really worked hard on relaxing and taking things as they come. Moreover, now that I'm in Bolivia I'm very glad I had that epiphany in Argentina, as travel here is a complete mess. But more on that later.
Well, so I took a 20 hour bus ride from Bariloche to Mendoza. Or at least it was supposed to be 20 hours. Unfortunately, I awoke in the middle of the night to a stopped bus without heating a.k.a. it was freezing, even wrapped up in 2 sweatshirts, a winter jacket and a winter hat. Moreover, I had no idea why we were stopped.
When I looked outside, I saw that we were on the border of the Province of Mendoza. There were a bunch of signs welcoming people to the province, and signs indicating that spraying had to be undertaken to ward off any transfer of agricultural diseases from province to province. Since it was the middle of the night, I assumed that we were standing because the bus, which had been falling further and further behind schedule during the previous day (for instance, departure had been scheduled for 11 am but didn't happen until 11.45) had simply failed to arrive on time for the spraying and was now waiting for the station to open the next morning. Peeved and to cold to sleep, I resigned myself to reading crack - Harry Potter.
However, when these exceedingly annoying German-speaking girls from the back of the bus asked me what was going on, I vented my frustration over Argentine tardiness in about a 3 minute soliloquy about how the companies need to get their act together. It wasn't pretty, but at least I delivered in German so no one else understood, and even the girls, who had been mocking everything Argentine for the past 12 hours or so (this is what made them annoying) looked taken aback by my reaction.
About 90 minutes later I felt like a total jackass. The on board steward (like on a plane) came upstairs and told us that the replacement bus had arrived, so we could change buses and continue onward. Apparently, we had been stopped due to a mechanical fault in the motor, not incompetence. It made me feel really bad that I had gotten so upset over something that wasn't the fault of either driver or steward.
More importantly, it showed me that I still need to go a long way in relaxing and accepting the daily problematic of travelling in Latin America. In this sense, it was a major eye-opener. And since then, I've really worked hard on relaxing and taking things as they come. Moreover, now that I'm in Bolivia I'm very glad I had that epiphany in Argentina, as travel here is a complete mess. But more on that later.
¿Cuando...ahem, Wann? wait, When?
So while in Bariloche, I was walking down the street after getting some groceries, when I was thinking about something I have by now long forgotten. (this was, after all, about a month ago), when suddenly I realized I was thinking about it in Spanish.
That was pretty sweet since I had hopes of really improving my Spanish on this trip. In fact, it was a major motivation. I then thought about the last time I had spoken German or English, and realized I was on my 3rd day of Spanish only. Excellent....
I have to thank the hostel I was staying in, Bolso de Deportes. As I mentioned in my penultimate post, they are real nice and have a lot of information. Moreover, they have great kitchen facilities and comfy beds free of bugs. Most importantly, they attract a great group of people: Mainly Argentines, Chileans, as well as some Europeans (2 Italians who cooked for the whole hostel every night!), and a bunch of cool Basques, as well as friendly Spaniards like Roger. Moreover, the lingua franca of the hostel is Spanish, unlike most other hostels. Although now that I've been through all of Argentina and am in Bolivia, I have to say that the large number of Chileans travelling in Patagonia and generally in the west of the country helps tip the balance in favor Spanish as the main language in hostels, something I missed in Buenos Aires and since.
So while in Bariloche, I was walking down the street after getting some groceries, when I was thinking about something I have by now long forgotten. (this was, after all, about a month ago), when suddenly I realized I was thinking about it in Spanish.
That was pretty sweet since I had hopes of really improving my Spanish on this trip. In fact, it was a major motivation. I then thought about the last time I had spoken German or English, and realized I was on my 3rd day of Spanish only. Excellent....
I have to thank the hostel I was staying in, Bolso de Deportes. As I mentioned in my penultimate post, they are real nice and have a lot of information. Moreover, they have great kitchen facilities and comfy beds free of bugs. Most importantly, they attract a great group of people: Mainly Argentines, Chileans, as well as some Europeans (2 Italians who cooked for the whole hostel every night!), and a bunch of cool Basques, as well as friendly Spaniards like Roger. Moreover, the lingua franca of the hostel is Spanish, unlike most other hostels. Although now that I've been through all of Argentina and am in Bolivia, I have to say that the large number of Chileans travelling in Patagonia and generally in the west of the country helps tip the balance in favor Spanish as the main language in hostels, something I missed in Buenos Aires and since.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Different forms in different countries
As anyone who has studied South American history knows, Chile and Argentina are traditional enemies. Historically, Argentina has had the upper hand in most respects: It is larger; more fertile; more populous; and its geographic position at the head of the Rio de la Plata and the Atlantic to control exports to Europe. However, the past century has seen a Chilean ascendancy: With the growth of the American West, there was an export market for agricultural products; sitting upon some of the richest fishing grounds in the world (the Humboldt stream), refrigeration and instant freezing allowed for a fishing industry for export; and after annexing the Atacama desert from Bolivia in the War of the Pacific, it was a principal nitrate exporter in the world (this actually was the first of the 3).
Today, many people consider Chile the wealthier of the two countries, and GDP per head confirms this I believe. In fact, these days Chilean businesses actually own major stakes in many Argentine companies - they bought up massively after the 2001 currency collapse. On the other hand, Argentines are proud of their quality of life, and maintain that Chile, for whatever success it's had in the last few decades, lacks much of what makes Argentina a great place to live. Chileans on the other hand praise their incorruptible police (very unlike Argentina - more on this in another post), their responsive government, and their progressive country.
Here's a major difference I've noticed in the "wealth" of the two countries:
Argentina had 150 years of infrastructural investment, starting with the train concessions given to the British. The road network is excellent, you can drink the tap water in just about all parts of the country, and the administrative infrastructure, particularly in regards to agriculture, is great. For instance, contaminated honey can be traced to the hive from which it originated, even if the contamination isn't discovered until months and thousands of miles later, abroad. Moreover, Argentina can produce almost all food needs domestically, due to the incredible breadth of environments within the country. Schools and telephone and internet services exist just about everywhere. Unfortunately, ever since 2001 many of its people have had to live in bitter poverty, although this is visibly becoming better.
Chile on the other hand, has great personal wealth; although many of the places I went still lacked paved roads, people were skeptical of the quality of drinking water, and waste water management remains an "idea to be explored in the future," people had many personal accessories that are great luxuries elsewhere. For instance, a digital camera, though not rare anymore in Argentina, is pretty much standard even for backpackers in Chile. In fact, the whole country was packed with Chileans travelling around - from15 year old girls in brand name gear to families in new cars. And on top of the digital camera, everyone was rocking one some form of m3 player, to boot.
As anyone who has studied South American history knows, Chile and Argentina are traditional enemies. Historically, Argentina has had the upper hand in most respects: It is larger; more fertile; more populous; and its geographic position at the head of the Rio de la Plata and the Atlantic to control exports to Europe. However, the past century has seen a Chilean ascendancy: With the growth of the American West, there was an export market for agricultural products; sitting upon some of the richest fishing grounds in the world (the Humboldt stream), refrigeration and instant freezing allowed for a fishing industry for export; and after annexing the Atacama desert from Bolivia in the War of the Pacific, it was a principal nitrate exporter in the world (this actually was the first of the 3).
Today, many people consider Chile the wealthier of the two countries, and GDP per head confirms this I believe. In fact, these days Chilean businesses actually own major stakes in many Argentine companies - they bought up massively after the 2001 currency collapse. On the other hand, Argentines are proud of their quality of life, and maintain that Chile, for whatever success it's had in the last few decades, lacks much of what makes Argentina a great place to live. Chileans on the other hand praise their incorruptible police (very unlike Argentina - more on this in another post), their responsive government, and their progressive country.
Here's a major difference I've noticed in the "wealth" of the two countries:
Argentina had 150 years of infrastructural investment, starting with the train concessions given to the British. The road network is excellent, you can drink the tap water in just about all parts of the country, and the administrative infrastructure, particularly in regards to agriculture, is great. For instance, contaminated honey can be traced to the hive from which it originated, even if the contamination isn't discovered until months and thousands of miles later, abroad. Moreover, Argentina can produce almost all food needs domestically, due to the incredible breadth of environments within the country. Schools and telephone and internet services exist just about everywhere. Unfortunately, ever since 2001 many of its people have had to live in bitter poverty, although this is visibly becoming better.
Chile on the other hand, has great personal wealth; although many of the places I went still lacked paved roads, people were skeptical of the quality of drinking water, and waste water management remains an "idea to be explored in the future," people had many personal accessories that are great luxuries elsewhere. For instance, a digital camera, though not rare anymore in Argentina, is pretty much standard even for backpackers in Chile. In fact, the whole country was packed with Chileans travelling around - from15 year old girls in brand name gear to families in new cars. And on top of the digital camera, everyone was rocking one some form of m3 player, to boot.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Freezing on the Frey
So while I was in Bariloche, I stayed in hostel where a lot of outdoorsy type people stay, and they have good maps and excellent information on a number of outdoor activities in the area. Moreover, the vibe is really laid back and everyone is of "buena onda" i.e. everyone's cool. So one of the popular hikes in the areas takes you from the the base of the main ski area (Cerro Cathedral) to a refugio at 1700m altitude, something that's claimed to take about 4 hours. Refugio Frey is one of the best rock climbing locations in Argentina because of it's rock facades immediately above the lake, or in the adjoining valleys. You can also use it as a jumping-off point for multi-day hikes that eventually take you back down to the town - or at least to places where there's a bus to town a couple times a day.
Although you can do Frey and back as a day hike - although a very tiring one - I was convinced by another guy to go up there for two nights and hang out, maybe borrow someone's equipment and do some climbing. Moreover, the guy I was going to go up there with had a friend who was living on the mountain as a climbing guide. So with that in mind, I headed out from Bariloche with Roger, a cool Spaniard from Barcelona. The two of us being in decent shape (mine in acute decline over the trip, I should mention, but apparently still living off the alumni weekend game), we actually reached the peak in about 1.5 hours less than is considered "normal" - and indeed, we were going fast, with only short breaks.
The refugio itself is a small stone house that sits by a beautiful lake almost entirely surrounded by high rock formations in rough shapes. On one side, it spawns a small stream by the side of the building. You can either stay at the refugio itself, or you can camp alongside the lake. Roger and I pitched our (separate) tents and made our respective soup dinners - he rocked some very good miso, and I was impressed. I instead opted for an old favorite, tomato cream, but is' since come off the list - you will see why.
First of all, my soup didn't really desolve properly, and thus was a little chunky for a cream soup. And almost the moment I finished the soup, I began feeling a little ... funky. Nonetheless, we chilled for a little while longer before retiring to sleep. I however, was having difficulty sleeping, which i chalked up to the cold. Despite my sleeping bag's claim to be comfortable around freezing and work until -8 C, I will at this point acknowledge that the Polish manufacturer is quite frankly wrong. So I was comfortably huddled up in my sleeping bag in sweatshirt, winter hat and pants, but began shaking more and more, in tune to my stomach becoming more and more uncomfortable. Finally, I decide that I needed out of the tent - and quickly. After opening the tent and crawling about 3 feet to the end of the portal, I vomited immediately in front of the tent in the strong wind. A storm was brewing, Roger heard me and asked if I was ok, even came out to check on me. He said he would probably head to the refugio soon, as his tent (a second hand Argentine contraption he'd picked up in Bariloche) wasn't keeping him dry. I instead decided to stick it out in the tent, as the fresh air was actually quite nice. Moreover, having vomited I didn't feel nearly as cold, so I actually was able to fall asleep once I'd crawled back into the tent (my lower half never left the sleeping bag).
Unfortunately for me, neither my stomach nor the weather held. The wind increased more and more, beginning to drive heavy raindrops in front of it, until finally the rain turned into hail. My stomach settled into a rhythm of demanding an "emergency action" every two hours, and so I passed the night in and out of the tent, in and out of the hail.
By the next morning, the weather was foul. Low clouds made climbing impossible, and any views towards above impossible. I slowly packed up my gear, got a tea at the refugio, and began my descent while Roger decided to stay. It took me more than an hour more to descend than it had taken me to climb the mountain, plus I took some long breaks (including a 30 minute nap) and I was a wreck by the time I got down. Luckily for me, a bus to town was leaving just then; unluckily for me, i was at the back of the line, so I had to stand, making me feel like I was going to either get sick again or faint.
I'm glad I went down that day though: the next day there were 20 cm of snow at the Frey that had fallen overnight, which made for beautiful pictures (Roger showed me), but would have been a miserable descent in my sneakers. On the upside, from Barloche itself, the views were spectacular: Instead of either green or brown mountain tops, all around the city and the lake the hills were crowned in white.
That's summer in Patagonia.
So while I was in Bariloche, I stayed in hostel where a lot of outdoorsy type people stay, and they have good maps and excellent information on a number of outdoor activities in the area. Moreover, the vibe is really laid back and everyone is of "buena onda" i.e. everyone's cool. So one of the popular hikes in the areas takes you from the the base of the main ski area (Cerro Cathedral) to a refugio at 1700m altitude, something that's claimed to take about 4 hours. Refugio Frey is one of the best rock climbing locations in Argentina because of it's rock facades immediately above the lake, or in the adjoining valleys. You can also use it as a jumping-off point for multi-day hikes that eventually take you back down to the town - or at least to places where there's a bus to town a couple times a day.
Although you can do Frey and back as a day hike - although a very tiring one - I was convinced by another guy to go up there for two nights and hang out, maybe borrow someone's equipment and do some climbing. Moreover, the guy I was going to go up there with had a friend who was living on the mountain as a climbing guide. So with that in mind, I headed out from Bariloche with Roger, a cool Spaniard from Barcelona. The two of us being in decent shape (mine in acute decline over the trip, I should mention, but apparently still living off the alumni weekend game), we actually reached the peak in about 1.5 hours less than is considered "normal" - and indeed, we were going fast, with only short breaks.
The refugio itself is a small stone house that sits by a beautiful lake almost entirely surrounded by high rock formations in rough shapes. On one side, it spawns a small stream by the side of the building. You can either stay at the refugio itself, or you can camp alongside the lake. Roger and I pitched our (separate) tents and made our respective soup dinners - he rocked some very good miso, and I was impressed. I instead opted for an old favorite, tomato cream, but is' since come off the list - you will see why.
First of all, my soup didn't really desolve properly, and thus was a little chunky for a cream soup. And almost the moment I finished the soup, I began feeling a little ... funky. Nonetheless, we chilled for a little while longer before retiring to sleep. I however, was having difficulty sleeping, which i chalked up to the cold. Despite my sleeping bag's claim to be comfortable around freezing and work until -8 C, I will at this point acknowledge that the Polish manufacturer is quite frankly wrong. So I was comfortably huddled up in my sleeping bag in sweatshirt, winter hat and pants, but began shaking more and more, in tune to my stomach becoming more and more uncomfortable. Finally, I decide that I needed out of the tent - and quickly. After opening the tent and crawling about 3 feet to the end of the portal, I vomited immediately in front of the tent in the strong wind. A storm was brewing, Roger heard me and asked if I was ok, even came out to check on me. He said he would probably head to the refugio soon, as his tent (a second hand Argentine contraption he'd picked up in Bariloche) wasn't keeping him dry. I instead decided to stick it out in the tent, as the fresh air was actually quite nice. Moreover, having vomited I didn't feel nearly as cold, so I actually was able to fall asleep once I'd crawled back into the tent (my lower half never left the sleeping bag).
Unfortunately for me, neither my stomach nor the weather held. The wind increased more and more, beginning to drive heavy raindrops in front of it, until finally the rain turned into hail. My stomach settled into a rhythm of demanding an "emergency action" every two hours, and so I passed the night in and out of the tent, in and out of the hail.
By the next morning, the weather was foul. Low clouds made climbing impossible, and any views towards above impossible. I slowly packed up my gear, got a tea at the refugio, and began my descent while Roger decided to stay. It took me more than an hour more to descend than it had taken me to climb the mountain, plus I took some long breaks (including a 30 minute nap) and I was a wreck by the time I got down. Luckily for me, a bus to town was leaving just then; unluckily for me, i was at the back of the line, so I had to stand, making me feel like I was going to either get sick again or faint.
I'm glad I went down that day though: the next day there were 20 cm of snow at the Frey that had fallen overnight, which made for beautiful pictures (Roger showed me), but would have been a miserable descent in my sneakers. On the upside, from Barloche itself, the views were spectacular: Instead of either green or brown mountain tops, all around the city and the lake the hills were crowned in white.
That's summer in Patagonia.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Fixed the comments settings
yeah, so I went the was of House and have opened up comments to all readers, reardless of blogger membership. So feel free to leave me a note, or as always, you can hit up the email.
yeah, so I went the was of House and have opened up comments to all readers, reardless of blogger membership. So feel free to leave me a note, or as always, you can hit up the email.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Oh Argentina, you're so silly
One thing about Argentina that I'd forgotten is how totally incomprehensible illogical some organizational aspects of this country are. Or rather, what lack of simple common sense underlies these administrative decisions. I was immediately confronted with two examples in the first 3 hours in the country:
You can't trade Chilean to Argentine pesos in Chaitén. I doubt you can in Futaleufú, but since the bus from Chaitén arrives after the bank closes, and the morning bus to the border goes before it opens, it wasn't possible for me, even if there is general availability. The border of course is in the middle of nowhere, and so you are dependent on the bus to get you from there to the nearest towns of Trevelin or Ezquel. However, this bus costs money, and can only be paid in local currency, which you can't get anywhere within 2 days travel of the border. Wonderful, and well thought out Argentina.
So I was able to overcome the above problem through the generosity of two other travelers (2 Israeli girls, actually). Unfortunately for both them and me, when we arrived at Ezquel, it turned out that the nearest ATM is about a km away. So I rushed off to get cash and repay them as well as buy my onward bus ticket. So with my heavy backpack, I began running down the street until I finally reached the first ATM, where there were approximately a bazillion people were standing in line to use it - a common Latin American feature, I might add. So having waited it out to use the machine, I then sprinted back to the bus station, because I had a feeling that I would miss the next bus if I didn't.
By the time I had returned to the bus station, the bus had already left. (this resulted in a 6 hour layover for me, and non-payment of my debt even though I spent part of the next day going hostel to hostel looking for the girls). So here's my question: How do two such obvious points of interest not appeal to independent ATM operators who charge a small fee? If not at the border, then at least at the bus station where people from abroad arrive? And it's not like the bus station was old and didn't have space. The thing was brand new, in gorgeous condition, and all other traveller amenities were built in, including a rather large internet cafe. But in a country where a quite a number of bus operators do not take credit/debit cards, or where the window of time between arrival and departure is designed to be small, you would quite simply expect something like an ATM, which would make so much sense.
So, Argentina: Why are you so silly?
One thing about Argentina that I'd forgotten is how totally incomprehensible illogical some organizational aspects of this country are. Or rather, what lack of simple common sense underlies these administrative decisions. I was immediately confronted with two examples in the first 3 hours in the country:
You can't trade Chilean to Argentine pesos in Chaitén. I doubt you can in Futaleufú, but since the bus from Chaitén arrives after the bank closes, and the morning bus to the border goes before it opens, it wasn't possible for me, even if there is general availability. The border of course is in the middle of nowhere, and so you are dependent on the bus to get you from there to the nearest towns of Trevelin or Ezquel. However, this bus costs money, and can only be paid in local currency, which you can't get anywhere within 2 days travel of the border. Wonderful, and well thought out Argentina.
So I was able to overcome the above problem through the generosity of two other travelers (2 Israeli girls, actually). Unfortunately for both them and me, when we arrived at Ezquel, it turned out that the nearest ATM is about a km away. So I rushed off to get cash and repay them as well as buy my onward bus ticket. So with my heavy backpack, I began running down the street until I finally reached the first ATM, where there were approximately a bazillion people were standing in line to use it - a common Latin American feature, I might add. So having waited it out to use the machine, I then sprinted back to the bus station, because I had a feeling that I would miss the next bus if I didn't.
By the time I had returned to the bus station, the bus had already left. (this resulted in a 6 hour layover for me, and non-payment of my debt even though I spent part of the next day going hostel to hostel looking for the girls). So here's my question: How do two such obvious points of interest not appeal to independent ATM operators who charge a small fee? If not at the border, then at least at the bus station where people from abroad arrive? And it's not like the bus station was old and didn't have space. The thing was brand new, in gorgeous condition, and all other traveller amenities were built in, including a rather large internet cafe. But in a country where a quite a number of bus operators do not take credit/debit cards, or where the window of time between arrival and departure is designed to be small, you would quite simply expect something like an ATM, which would make so much sense.
So, Argentina: Why are you so silly?
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