Jeff and I finished a 3 day Jeep (okay, Toyota) ride through Bolivia´s Southwest, a desolate wilderness with some absolutely breath-taking scenery. This part of Bolivia is very rugged and bitterly cold because of the altitude – only the very stout of heart can live here.
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While in Valparaiso we had a change of heart and decided to head north in Chile instead of returning to Argentina. While the north of Argentina is supposed to be beautiful and great for travel, we were ready for a significant change, in both climate and culture. Our original plan also had us spending a week working our way north to Bolivia and crossing over from Salta in Argentina. That would have been around 40 hours of bus rides… something we wanted to avoid if at all possible.
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Valpo is a strange town. It’s heyday was in the late 19th century during the gold rush, and in many ways it reminds us of San Francisco. It’s a city of hills and old crumbly architecture set on a beautiful bay, but unlike San Francisco it’s declined quite a bit from it’s days as an important port.
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We climbed Villarica and survived to tell the tale! The climb was tougher that we expected. Initially there were 6 of us, not including our two guides, but our number was quickly reduced to 4. Since it was a cloudy day, the ski lifts that take you to the base of the climb weren’t running, so we had to tack on an additional 45 minute climb at the beginning. Two of our party dropped out after that first leg, taking one of our guides with them! The remaining 4 of us weren’t going to give up so easily, and despite the windy conditions and lack of visibility, decided to keep on going.
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We spent Saturday and Sunday on a bus, braving a 24 hour ride – mostly on dirt roads – to Bariloche, AR. We rode on the historic Route 40 (Argentina´s Route 66). For those of you who have read or seen The Motorcycle Diaries, we are riding the same road Ernesto and Alberto took North from Patagonia. We are crossing into Chile in the same spot they did. I am reading Motorcycle Diaries right now and the condition of the road seems to have changed little in the 55 years since they had their adventure.
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Our primary destination in Patagonia was actually El Chalten, a tiny town about 2 hours north of El Calafate. The town was only established in the mid ’80s and has a real wild-west feel to it. With only 500 or so residents, it pretty much exists to cater to visitors to the national park and closes down in the winter when tourism dries up. The town itself is ideally located in a valley that sits right inside the border of the national park, so all you have to do is walk out the door of your hotel to go trekking. Which is what we did. It was perfect for us because we didn’t have to rent cars, take buses, buy camping gear etc. El Chalten is perfectly set up as a day-hikers dreamland.
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Elyse and I flew to El Calafate, the largest town in the southern part of Patagonia to start our travels after a month and a half in Buenos Aires. El Calafate is a town of around 8000 in the middle of nowhere. This part of Patagonia is pretty barren, with mostly scrub lands and rolling hills at the foot of the Andes. It was a dusty town without much in the way of attractions or entertainment save for some decent restaurants and of course, the spectacular Perito Moreno glacier, around 80k west of town.
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The icing on the cake – our last night in Buenos Aires we splurged on what is boasted as the Best Tango Show in Town. The name of the place is El Querandi, it was built in 1920 – although I don’t think it has been a tango club the whole time. The architecture was beautiful, lots of wood trim with details in the Art Deco style (my favorite). The show itself was fabulous. We were transported through time – from the early days of tango to modernism. It was fascinating to see the progression from late 1800′s early 1900′s to the present – changes in dress, dance style and music. Surprisingly the early days of Tango appeared to be less structured and stylized, more playful. The dancers were amazing, the singers talented and dramatic. Although this is the only official Tango Show I saw, I see why they call it the best.
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It’s been more than a month and our divey little departamento in San Telmo has become home to us. I’ve become accustomed to our daily routine. We do our homework at the kitchen table in the morning before class, shop at the crappy Chinese grocery a block over, and sit on the balcony in the evening as the chaos in the street below winds down. The old lady next door says buenos dias to me in the elevator and the guy in the shop downstairs knows thats it’s best if he talks slowly and avoids adjectives. Overall this city has grown on me and I’ll be sad to leave. But leaving is exactly what we’re doing, bright and early tomorrow morning we board our flight to El Calafate in Patagonia, thus beginning our travels and marking the end of our sedentary life.
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We took a week off classes to better digest everything we’ve learned and to make a little excursion to Colonia de Sacramento, a small town in Uruguay that is about 4 hours from BA by ferry.
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