March of the Tourists

Thursday afternoon, my friends and I boarded an 18-hour-bus to northern Patagonia. Well, almost all of us did. Frances, however, missed the bus, and had to hire a taxi to race it to the next stop, where she arrived with only seconds to spare. It was a tense moment, and we were prepared to break out some stalling tactics.

When we finally arrived in Puerto Madryn, we checked into our cozy hostel room, which we shared with a Scottish traveler. The five of us Americans rented a car (don’t tell our program), picked up some delicious empanadas, and made way for Punta Tombo, the domain of the penguins. I had expected them to be clustered in a large mass of black and white, but the small creatures wandered the dusty landscape solo. Many were tucked away in dirt holes, incubating eggs that are soon to be hatched. It was incredible how comfortable they were with the fascinated humans chasing them with flashing cameras. They wobbled along, seemingly disinterested in our excited behavior. It was something I’d never expected to see, and the gorgeous seaside location only made it all the more enjoyable.

The following day, we rose bright and early for an all-day tour of Peninsula Valdez. We stopped at different spots along the coast to observe the various marine animals that inhabit the area. We saw everything from elephant seals to armadillos, and were able to get really close to the creatures. One stop included a whale watching boat ride, during which Frances and I felt nauseous and were given ‘just in case’ plastic bags by the crewmembers. But the seasickness was worth it. The whales came right up to the boat, surfacing, groaning, and spouting water. Their grey bumpy bodies were enormous, and the boat rocked when they swam below the vessel.

That night was Halloween, and though not many Argentines celebrate the holiday, we couldn’t skip it. We cooked pasta and garlic bread, and invited some Argentine friends-of-friends to join us at the hostel. My friend Lauren carved an Argentine vegetable that is small, green, and somewhat round to top the table, and we enjoyed some Patagonian chocolate to start off the night. Our new Argentine friends showed us the city, including one of its popular bars where we danced until morning.

A few hours later, the unfortunate trill of the alarm sounded as it was time for our final excursion. We dragged our leaden limbs out of bed and into taxis, which took us to the beachfront store where we wiggled into wetsuits. A short boat-ride and some mate later, we motored to a cove inhabited by lobos marinos, or sea lions. This is where we hesitantly jumped into the frigid water. It was so cold that my leg kept cramping up, rendering me momentarily unable to swim. We were promised contact with the creatures, but so far they were resting on the shore while we struggled in the cold water. Our guide made us swim back and forth incessantly to tempt the animals into the water. At this point, it seemed that our 400 pesos were going to have been wasted on a glacial swim. However, the sea lions got curious, and plopped into the water. They swam all around us, their formless bodies whirling and diving with natural grace. I kept reaching my hands out to touch them, but my three-fingered orange gloves kept scaring them away. I did finally have success and stroked one of their rubbery backs! One of them swam right up to me, its gentle eyes meeting mine before it flipped around and dove to the dark depths. The experience, though quite cold, was one of the best things I have ever done. It was amazing to be able to interact so closely with another species, and it was hard to leave.

Spring Break: The Biggest Adventure Yet

Last week, I got a break from classes (yes, I actually do have classes, homework, and papers) and got to enjoy a week of travel through Chile and Argentina.  It was one of the best trips I’ve ever been on, as I did so many things I’d only dreamed about.

Santiago:

Our first stop was Santiago, Chile.  I have to admit, I wasn’t particularly fond of the smoggy, crowded city.  The fact that every waiter and subway employee warned us to be careful probably didn’t help my already skeptical opinion.  To be fair, I was expecting something new and fresh, and after living in Buenos Aires for two months another Lain American city probably can’t produce the ‘wow’ factor.  We did enjoy a delicious meal in which we tried traditional Chilean dishes.  The most delicious by far was the pastel de choclo, which was a thick corn substance in which you could dig for tasty treasures such as meat or potatoes.  Besides some bad seafood and a touristy ride up a hill to see a statue of Mary, we toured one of Pablo Neruda’s houses.  This was actually really interesting, as the home was built like a boat and decorated really eccentrically.

Viña del Mar/ Valparaiso:

While Santiago was a bit disappointing, I found my new favorite place in the world just two hours away. Viña del Mar and Valparaiso, neighboring Chilean towns resting on a hilly seaside, were the most charming and beautiful places I’ve ever been.

Viña del Mar boasts curving coastlines that harbor palm trees and castles. Valparaiso was equally as scenic, but with a quirkier personality.  Brightly colored houses speckled hills that plunged into glittering ports.  Everyone was relaxed and friendly, wandering the streets or spending the afternoon in a cafe.  Art galleries and fairs that sold artesian goods were fun to browse.  And of course, I made a few purchases: alpaca socks, fanny packs, indigenous jewelry.

Mendoza:

It was hard to leave the sunny coast, but I was excited for the rest of our trip.  We boarded the overnight bus to Mendoza, Argentina.  I was used to long bus rides, but this one proved to be a little more difficult than usual.  We were roused in the middle of the night and ushered off the bus to go through customs on the Chilean-Argentine border.  Unprepared for such circumstances, the hour-long wait in the callous cold was almost unbearable.  Finally, passports stamped and luggage inspected, we were allowed to return to the comfort (sort of) of our bus.

When we finally arrived early the next morning, our hostel graciously allowed us an early check-in so we could get a few hours of much needed sleep before our first adventure: paragliding.  Aerial sports were never really something I had considered attempting since the thought of dangling mid-air thousands of feet above ground sounded more miserable than pleasant.  However, after hearing others’ accounts of the tranquility and remarkable views I decided to give it a try.  I was slightly nervous but had heard enough about it to know that it would not be a scary experience.  We drove higher and higher into the mountains before dropping off my friends (who would go next) and continuing on.  The takeoff felt like something out of a cartoon.  Attached to a guide and a giant sail, I was instructed to start running across the plateau to the cliff’s edge.  A bit nervous about what would happen when I reached it, I obeyed.  And what do you know, I ran and ran and next thing I knew my legs were still moving but I no longer felt the ground beneath them.  It was like the moment right before the cartoon character realizes they’ve run off a cliff when they’re still suspended in the air.  Only the fall never came.  The ride was ridiculously serene.  I was seated, flying through the air, and gazing down upon the mountains landscape below.  The guide even treated me to aerobatics- we did a full spin!  This was definitely one of the most amazing things I’d ever done.

Until the next day’s excursion: climbing a mountain in the Andes.  We signed up for a day of trekking, not really sure what was in store for us.  Led by two Argentine guides, our group set off up the steep mountainside cluttered with wobbly rocks and slick patches of snow.  The high altitude made each breath a laborious process and left me slightly light-headed.  Visions of myself sitting on the mountainside waiting for the group to finish and come down to get me flashed through my mind.  I honestly didn’t know if I was going to make it.  But, four hours and a few thorn injuries later, we reached the top of Arenales.  Textured ridges and snowy peaks surrounded us as we picnicked atop the summit.  I’d never felt so accomplished!  And I have to say, a ham sandwich never tasted so good.  The descent was even more tricky, as the skittering rocks torqued my ankles and knees and we kept sliding on the snow.  That night, we relaxed and enjoyed a delicious asado prepared by our hostel while getting to know our fellow travelers.

While our adventures so far were great, we had to spend our final day touring Mendoza’s most famous attractions: the bodegas. We boarded a bus to visit three such wineries, and the tour ended up being just us.  Each tour showed us the methods of production, taught us a bit about the process and different flavors, and let us taste a few wines.  It was really interesting to learn about how the different flavors are created.  Of course, the lunch that was included in the excursion was equally as enjoyable.  The table was covered with a delicious spread which we quickly learned was only the appetizer.  Followed by four courses and a dessert, the meal left us full and sleepy.

San Juan:

There is really no reason to go to San Juan other than to see the rock formations in the Valley of the Moon, which is what we had planned to do.  However, due to some planning errors, the tour cost quite a bit more than anticipated and entailed 12 hours on a bus before our 10 hour bus ride that night.  There was a bit of a panic when we abandoned the original plan and realized our detour to San Juan was completely in vain.  However, it turned out to be one of the best days of the trip.

After talking with the hostel employees about free excursions, we boarded a bus that was packed with locals.  It took us about an hour outside of town, and the ride was better than any tour bus I’d ever been on.  We drove through leafy villages where children played in the streets and rudimentary buildings dotted the landscape.  The bus finally dropped us off on the side of a dusty road that seemed to stretch on forever.  The only thing in sight was the sign that read “Costa Magna.”  After a brief hike, we reached our destination:  a lakeside beach.  Seeing as it was a weekday, the cabana-lined sand was vacant; we had found our own private paradise.  We spent the afternoon sunning and picnicking on the water’s edge before making our way back to the road, hoping the bus would return.  That night, we cooked a delicious stir fry, garlic bread, and salad before boarding the bus to our final destination.

Cordoba/ Villa General Belgrano:

There really isn’t much to do in Cordoba other than visit the churches and historic buildings that look pretty much the same as the ones in Buenos Aires or any other major city in South America.  However, Villa General Belgrano, a town two hours away populated by German immigrants had an attraction that we couldn’t pass up: Oktoberfest.

A huge festival, the event draws thousands of people who go to drink beer, eat bratwurst, and enjoy traditional music and dance shows.  Oktoberfest has a very specific regimen.  Step 1: Buy a beer mug.  Step 2: Attach it to the sash that you also purchase.  Step 3: Fill it with an assortment of beers which you sample with bratwurst and sauerkraut.  To me, all the brews tasted equally disgusting.  But, I figured I had to look to my German heritage and give it a try.  Unfortunately, a huge storm rolled in, so we rolled out.  But, it was an experience to remember.

Goodbye Buenos Aires, hello Salta!

This last week, I burst into tears for the first time in awhile, was temporarily homeless for the second time this quarter, and ate more red meat than I thought humanely possible.  Allow me to start at the beginning.

Last Thursday my purse was stolen at a dance club, meaning I had no money, credit cards, phone, or apartment keys.  (I had lost my debit card a few days before.)  I was stuck outside all night until my program building opened the next morning and I could get help.  I was okay, but unfortunately I am still dealing with the incident.

Getting credit cards mailed from a foreign country takes a lot longer than I expected.  When my credit card finally arrived, it did me absolutely no good because almost every store here requires cash.  And no bank would let me use my credit card to take out money while I was awaiting the arrival of my debit card.  I spent days trying to work out cash advances and money transfers, hoping the other card would arrive.  Well, Thursday rolled around, the day I was scheduled to board a 22-hour bus to northern Argentina for a weekend getaway, and still no sign of the long-awaited package.  To make matters worse, all my clothing was at the lavandería, a place that washes your clothes for you (no, I’m not ridiculously lazy- this is just how things are done here) and I didn’t have enough cash left to pay to get it back.  And when I say all my clothing, I mean all of it except the skirt and top I was wearing.

After one final phone call in an attempt to procure money through an agent who spoke way too fast (in Spanish, mind you), tears just burst from my eyes.  I wasn’t expecting this at all.  It was completely irrepressible- my eyes just started leaking and I just felt hot drops slithering down my cheeks.  I was in the middle of the IES center, and I felt absolutely ridiculous.  But I felt so helpless and frustrated that I just broke down.

Luckily, I was able to negotiate my way into getting my clothes and borrow money from a friend during the trip for tours, food, and hostels.

Which brings me to my brief period of homelessness.  (I was in a similar situation when my keys were stolen and I couldn’t get into my apartment).  Coincidentally, our weekend in Salta coincided with the once-a-year concert of Argentine rock star Indio Solari.  Fans flocked to the rural town from all over South America.  Booking a hostel online was nearly impossible, as everything was full.  But my friend Chelsea and I managed to find one.  Or so we thought…

When we arrived, we were told the website had tricked us and that there was actually no room for us.  The woman called around to try to find somewhere for us to stay, but everything was booked.  Visions of us sleeping on the side of the road next to scruffy stray dogs haunted my mind for the next hour or so.

But, it’s funny how the longer you talk to people, the more the story changes.  We spoke some more with the hostel owner, and she began to feel bad for us.  (I think the fact that we could speak Spanish helped our case).  She somehow realized she did have beds for us for Friday and Sunday night and said we could sleep on the floor for Saturday.

And now to the red meat…

That night, after dealing with such obstacles, we decided to take it easy.  We ended up grilling at the hostel with a group of Argentinean 20-somethings who were there for the concert.  It was a lot of fun sitting around the barbecue, practicing our Spanish, and getting to know some new people.  The asado (barbecue) took hours to cook, so by the time it was done I ate way too much meat.

The next day, we roamed the countryside on horseback.  And let me tell you, this was no ordinary trail-ride where the horses mundanely follow the leader.  We were at an estancia for the day and the gaucho who took us out kept asking us if we wanted to gallop.  He would run alongside our horses with his whip, revving them up with excited shouts, and they would take off at incredible speeds.  I was gripping on with all my strength, terrified that I was going to bounce off, but at the same time thrilled to by flying along the dusty path in the undulating rhythm of the horse’s gait.  Midday, we were treated to yet another asado in which each course was a new type of meat or chorizo (sausage).  I couldn’t pass up a new cut, so needless to say, I was ridiculously full and in need of a siesta.

That night, we slept at the ranch (which solved our hostel issue), and this in itself was a great experience.  We sat by the fireside conversing with the gauchos who lived and worked there.  It was incredible to talk with people whose lifestyles were so far removed from modern society.  I felt like I was peeking into the past, talking to characters out of my history book.

What made it really great was that we met a woman from Switzerland who, after a year of travel, had decided to settle down and work at the ranch for a few months before going home.  She shared her experience with us, recounting details from her stay in the countryside, lamenting the issues she witnessed while praising other aspects of isolated life.  This was probably one of my favorite days in Argentina so far, because I really felt I understood something about another culture.

The next morning, we woke up early and boarded a bus for an excursion to a nearby town.  The views on the drive were gorgeous, as we drove for hours through shadowy valleys and mountains of bitter reds and mottled greens.  We tried a local custom of shoving coca leaves into our mouths to prevent altitude sickness.  (Yes, this is the plant from which cocaine is made, but in natural leaf form it doesn’t work the same way.)  The plant had a pungent flavor and was slightly uncomfortable wadded up in my cheek for hours.  But, who knows? Maybe it did something for me.

The actual town of Cachi was honestly not worth the four-hour drive.  And though I kept telling myself it’s about the journey and not the destination, I had severe doubts about the veracity of this saying.  One could walk from one end of the village to the other in a matter of minutes.  Sure, it was quaint, but after about 15 minutes we’d seen it all and were pretty much done besides the asado for lunch in which I had my first taste of goat meat.

That night, empañadas were in order, as they are a specialty in Salta.  These pastry pockets are stuffed with cheese, chicken or beef jerky and are ridiculously delicious.  It was the perfect last night to our trip.  (And yes, there was more meat for lunch and dinner on the bus ride home.)

Fallin’ for Iguazu

What a weekend!  After spending Thursday at a traditional estancia riding horses, biking in pastures and consuming way too much food, on Friday I boarded a 17-hour bus to Puerto Iguazu. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, as we had the “cama” (bed-syle seats), and I was so comfortable that I slept almost the whole way.  Our group of 12 arrived late Saturday morning, checked into our brightly-painted hostel, and headed to the national park.

The views of the Iguazu Falls were even better than I expected.  Water cascaded down rocky cliffs that were covered in luscious greenery.  And in case the view wasn’t already completely pristine, a huge rainbow arched across the landscape, dazzling tourists with its colorful splendor.

We didn’t only view the falls from afar.  Nope.  We actually boarded a boat that went right underneath them!  The experience was incredible, though I have to admit that being pummeled with freezing water isn’t what I’d call pleasurable.  But it was worth it to be able to look (squint) upwards and see the water tumbling downwards from the lofty cliffs above.  The tour also included a jungle safari via jeep, though this was a bit disappointing as all we saw was the same vegetation that we’d been viewing when walking along the park’s pathways.

The fun didn’t end after leaving the falls.  After group showers in bathing suits (twelve people and two showers and you are bound to run out of hot water), we headed out to a parilla for dinner.  We feasted on salad, bread, sangria and a variety of meats.  A few of my friends were brave enough to try the intestines, liver, kidney and other assorted organs, though I have to admit I stuck to the “bife de lomo” and “bife de chorizo.”  Somehow, the extravagant meal cost less than US $15 each, which of course left room for some ice cream later.

On our last night in the sleepy village, we made friends with the employee of our hostel who played Pictionary with us in the poolside cabana bar.  He made us Caipirinhas (Brazilian drinks) and spoke Spanish with us as rain battered the tin roof above our heads.  We stayed up sufficiently late to be tired for the long trek home the next morning.  The ride was not uneventful, as we almost got stranded in a convenience store in the middle of nowhere, twelve hours from Buenos Aires.  The bus attendant told us it was fine to get off the bus and buy some water bottles, but as soon as we stepped inside the little store we saw the huge vehicle pulling away! I tossed the water and ran after it; luckily we caught it and made it back on.   I still can’t figure out if the man was just really forgetful or if he was trying to free up a few extra seats on the bus.

This week, I started my first classes at the IES center (through my study abroad program), though they aren’t really interesting enough to mention.  I did stumble upon a protest today, though, where everyone was chanting and jumping with banners.  From what I could decipher of their words, they were demanding punishment for the officers involved in disappearing people during the Dirty War.

Check back soon for more updates on my adventures!

Learning the Hard Way…

I’ve been here a week now, and I have definitely learned a lot about living in Buenos Aires.  I’ve gotten use to the crazy schedule (staying out until 5am and going to class at 9:30) and have perfected the art of napping. I have learned how to avoid accepting counterfeit money as change, that Argentine guys are ridiculously persistent in the bars

Luckily, another girl from my program lives near me so we make the trek to orientation classes together.

and must be given a very cold shoulder and fake phone number, and that you have to push the button on the bus for your stop or you will end up going way too far.  (Yes, I learned most of these things the hard way.) I can navigate my way through a menu a little better (the empanadas are delicious), and quickly found the local dessert- alfajores. These are cookie sandwiches filled with the carmel-like dulce de leche which are sometimes covered in chocolate.  Yum… I realized quickly that it isn’t rude to yell for the waiter when he’s across the room- if you don’t he’ll never come over because he doesn’t want to bother you.

I do love that ordering a tea entitles you to the table for the afternoon, and today I took advantage of this to enjoy a lazy Sunday reading at a café.

I’ve already done a little too much shopping, but it is hard to resist as the prices are amazing.  And you have to buy leather boots when you’re here, right?

There was a power outage two days ago (yes, I survived a whole day with no phone or computer as both were in need of a charge.)  Though there was no water or light, it was kind of fun to live by candlelight.  And unfortunately, a neighbor realized I was borrowing their wireless internet and password protected it, so I am now unconnected- grr… Guess I have another excuse to go to a cafe.

Yesterday my program gave us a bus tour of the city.  We got to see the historic area of La Boca where the first immigrants lived and painted their houses with random paint that came in on ships.  (Hence the different colored sections on the walls.)  We visited the Casa Rosada (the equivalent of the White House) in the Plaza de Mayo where the mothers/grandmothers of the disappeared still protest.  We also toured my neighborhood a bit where street performers draw spectators and booths sell useless crafts.

I started my Saturday night at a traditional parilla, where meat is the specialty.  I went with a big group of girls and we ordered a bunch of entrees to share.  With several different types of meat and potatoes, I was left a-yearning for some veggies.  The beef, chicken, and pork were tasty for sure, but meat alone doesn’t really do it for me.  We did order some tomatoes, but for some reason the tomatoes here have a distinct twang that does not quite appeal to me.

I start classes next week, so I’ll keep you posted about all-Spanish lectures!

The Sights of the City

On Saturday, I went on a tour of the city with the other students on my program.  It was great because the tour guides gave us tons of information about the history and culture of Buenos Aires.