I arrived in Buenos Aires exhausted from 17 hours of flying and got off the plane to find Loïs waiting for me at the airport. I think I can count the number of times that I have gotten off a plane and had someone waiting for me. After a long flight, it is the best feeling. I usually just pass by the smiling faces of families and friends waiting to be reunited; but this time one of those smiling faces was waiting for me! Such was my warm welcome into the country of Argentina.
We took a taxi back to Loïs’ apartment. Loïs’ roommates consisted of the owners (a brother and his two sisters) two French girls and a Polish girl. All between twenty and thirty, there was a great atmosphere in the old house and I would soon find that warmth and hospitality in Argentina are not scarce. I was then ready for bed as it was already midnight by that time.
Tuesday, June 9 - Pesos make me a rich man
My initial encounter with the city of Buenos Aires got off to a slow start. I slept in till about noon. I’m going to blame that on the jet lag.
Loïs and I went to lunch at a sort of fifties diner where I got introduced to Argentinean albondigas (meatballs that are so big, you can only eat about two or three). This moment would begin my ever-increasing love affair with Argentinean meat.
After convincing Loïs to ditch class and show me around the city (not very principled I do confess, but truth be told it did not take much convincing) we went to the Avenida 9 de Julio, the main boulevard running through the heart of the city. The first monument that I visited was the obelisk, one of the city’s principal icons. The obelisk was designed by architect Alberto Prebisch in May 1936 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the city’s founding. It is located in the center of the Plaza de la República, the spot where the Argentinean flag was flown for the first time in Buenos Aires. Its total height is 67 meters and its base area is 49 square meters. The obelisk was a good introduction to the European flair that marks the city’s architecture.
Continuing along the avenue, we happened upon a variety of different suit shops. After, a quick calculation of the price (5 pesos to the euro) I realized that I could buy a Christian Dior suit with a European cut for about a hundred euros (less then a quarter of what it would have cost in France) and so I did just that. “The price is right Bob!”
That night we went back to the apartment and Loïs made dinner before we headed off to bed.
Wednesday, June 10 - Monuments, museums and then some
Loïs had to go to class so I was off to visit the city on my own. Having traveled most of Europe and even Morocco by myself, I was kind of looking forward to getting to know the city on my own terms.
First stop, Plaza de Mayo (the main city square). The Plaza de Mayo has always been the focal point of political life in Buenos Aires. Its current name commemorates the May Revolution of 1810, which started the process towards the country's independence from Spain in 1816. I was first impressed by the Casa Rosada. It is the equivalent of the White House in the US except that it is pink! The Casa Rosada (Spanish for the Pink House) is officially known as the Casa de Gobierno (Government House) or Palacio Presidencial (The Presidential Palace) and is the official seat of the executive branch of the Argentinean Government. However, when not working at the Casa Rosada, the Argentinean President resides in a compound in Olivos, a province of Buenos Aires. Constructed in 1898, the enormous balconies, arched windows and entryway make the Casa Rosada quite impressive. However, the fact that it is pink takes away from its austerity and makes the head hancho’s pad look like a good place for a fiesta. 
I then went to the Banco Nación, a state-owned bank in Argentina and the largest in the country's banking sector. President Carlos Pellegrini founded the bank in 1891. The enormous neo-classical columns and traditional white face create quite a contrast from its neighboring Casa Rosada. The bank reminded me of the collapse of the Argentinean economy and the number of times that the government has changed hands. It is a shame that a country with such great potential and natural resources should be brought down by so much corruption.
Next stop, the Catedral Metropolitana. Originally built in the 16th century, the cathedral is the main Catholic Church in Buenos Aires. The present building is a mix of architectural styles, with a 18th century dome and a severe, 19th century Neoclassical façade without towers. The interior keeps 18th century statues and altarpieces, as well as abundant Neo-Renaissance and Neo-Baroque decoration. I was lucky enough to arrive at the beginning of mass and so I sat down and participated.
I then visited the Museo de la Ciudad, a museum dedicated to the city of Buenos Aires and truth be told found it to be a bit disappointing. The museum mainly consisted of old toys, most of them resembling the kinds of toys that we had in America during the fifties and sixties (dolls, train sets, and cowboys and Indians).
Nevertheless, the plastic cowboys and Indians reminded me that the US and Argentina share a similar history. Both are a part of the new world and both experienced a time when cowboys roamed the open plains. When I think about the rough encounter that the early Americans had with the new world, I believe that the return to nature helped to weed out many of the superfluous inutilities that can be found in the more civilized European cultures. Thoreau once wrote that, “While civilization has been improving our houses, it has not equally improved the men who are to inhabit them. It has created palaces, but it was not so easy to create noblemen and kings.” I admire the spirit of the men who risked everything to come and live in this previously uncharted territory. This spirit, although I cannot put a name on it, can be felt in Argentina as well. It lies somewhere between the appreciation of simplicity and a general thankfulness for the life that we have been given.
The next stop was the San Franciscan church and museum. Upon my arrival in the museum, I was asked where I was from. In an effort to keep things in Spanish so that I could practice the language, I said that I had come from France (which was not entirely untrue). The eyes of the curator, a middle-aged woman, lit up. She immediately brought me to the back of the museum, asking permission to take me to a part of the church that is normally off limits. There, she showed me an enormous tapestry donated by the Rochette family, a French family that had come to settle in Buenos Aires. As she was explaining the meaning of the intricate religious designs, I could not help but feel a bit guilty about being an American imposter, but it was too late to turn back! In retrospect the personalized tour was quite nice. Perhaps, I should try being French more often.
Now hungry, I stopped to grab a quick bite to eat at the Bar de Mate. My French colleagues had told me about mate before leaving and had insisted that I bring some back. I was thus eager to try it. Mate is an herb that is used to fill up a very specific kind of cup also known as a mate. The herb is crushed up in the cup and hot water is then poured in. You have to drink it through a special filtered metal straw in order to avoid sucking up the herb itself. I think “yuck” most accurately describes the taste. I felt like I was drinking a cigar! I was so convinced that I even asked the waiter if there was tobacco in the herb. He almost folded over in laughter, which provided me with my answer. This drink is a cultural phenomenon in Argentina and people bring it with them on the go taking a thermos of hot water and a mate cup and straw in tow. Tourists seem to have mixed reactions. Loïs likes it and I hate it, so there you go.
After the mate experience, I went to the tango museum and the Almacen, the oldest tango house in Buenos Aires, founded in 1969. Buenos Aires is home to tango as we now know it.
That night, after getting out of class, Loïs took me to an awesome Argentinean restaurant, the 380. I thought that was perfect since we never stop talking about the A380 at work. I had a “bife de chorizo”. I think it is safe to say that that was the best steak I had ever had in my life. I am not normally a big slab of meat fan, but the meat is absolutely exceptional in Argentina. It just melts!
Thursday, June 11 - Uruguay and swine flu
The next day Loïs and I went to Uruguay. We took a boat early in the morning to cross the Rio de la Plata (the river separating the two countries). As the Argentinean peso is to the euro so the Uruguayan peso is to the Argentinean peso. In other words, everything was dirt cheap. The port town was quite charming with little colonial houses along the water and cobble stone streets. We then went for a bite to eat. We had the traditional chilito (basically steak on a salad and not too shabby). After that we walked along the water, catching up a bit and then heading over to the lighthouse and restaurant. It was there that I would experience “dulce de leche” for the first time. For this first encounter, it would be in the form of “pancakes de dulce de leche” (similar to French crêpes). Dulce de leche is hard to describe if you have not had it, but it is a rich, thick sauce (kind of like caramel but different) and it is so good! The first time you have it, it is kind of a divine experience. 
After our amazing desert, we took a tour of the local aquarium and checked out the piranha. It was walking out of the aquarium that things took a turn for the worse. I felt really cold and wanted to lie down. I slept on a park bench for about an hour and then tried to get enough energy to get back on the riverboat in order to head back home. It was on the boat that I began to realize that I was screwed! I had an enormous headache, the chills and was dreaming while I was still awake. My life quickly became all about getting back to Loïs’ apartment and going to bed as soon as possible.
Unfortunately, swine flu mania had hit Argentina big time. Once back in the country, they were filming everyone on the infrared cam. When I saw the cam, I knew I was in trouble. I did my best to look well, but while everyone else was yellow, I was bright red and purple on the screen. I was asked to step aside.
-Does your head hurt?
-Not a bit (lying through my teeth)
-Are you cold?
-Nope
-How do you feel?
-Fantastic!
After taking my temperature, it was clear that I had the flu. The nurse proceeded to ask me a myriad of questions before finally letting me go. Truth be told, I was feeling miserable and I cold barely walk. Loïs took me home.
Friday to Monday, June 12-15 - Am I doing to die doc?
The days to follow I was so weak that I could hardly move. It lasted for so long that everyone in the house was beginning to worry and I was eventually taken to the hospital. Fortunately, Augustin (one of Loïs’ roommates) had a friend who had a friend who had a friend who knew someone who worked at the hospital, so I did not have to wait in line. (In Argentina, like most Latin countries, it is all about the social network.) The doctor hooked me up with some drugs and then let me go. As it turns out, I just had the flu and not the swine flu, which is not surprising considering that I had gone from summer in France to winter in Argentina in less than 24 hours. I just had to ride it out.
Tuesday, June 16 - Back in action
I was finally feeling pretty good and had enough energy to get out of bed. A bit bumbed about having lost so much vacation time, I was ready to go explore. However, I knew I had to take it easy so as not to relapse. The previous day, Emmanuel (a friend of mine) had arrived in Buenos Aires from Toulouse and he too was ready for some site seeing.
To be brutally honest, I was a bit disappointed with the city of Buenos Aires. Although, there is an undeniable charm, the city is so dirty and the level of poverty is disheartening. Nevertheless, Emmanuel and I headed to the Boca while Loïs was in class. The Boca is the artistic quarter in Buenos Aires. Surrounded by the slums, the Boca itself is filled with colorful houses and restaurants, artisan shops and artists selling their paintings. We stopped to eat at a little joint and tango dancers performed right in front of our table. It was the first time I had seen live tango. The girl was so beautiful and the energy between to the dancers was so strong that I could not help but be caught up in the moment. There is something about tango that is so raw and sexy and yet at the same time incredibly elegant. I became a fan.
That night, I went out to dinner with Loïs. He took me to an old-fashioned “parilla” that a friend had recommended. A parilla, is kind of like a steak house except that a butcher cuts the meat right in front of you and then cooks it. The meet or should I say cow is cooked over an open fire. From what I saw the animal is usually cut into two parts and roasted like a teepee over an open fire. Vegetarians beware, this is the real deal! I had a “lomo”, which is the most tender part of the meat. It was wrapped in bacon with tomato, melted cheese and bell pepper… stinkin’ good!
Wednesday, June 17 - Lost and loving it
The next day, I was scheduled to meet up with Emmanuel while Loïs was in class. Unfortunately, our meeting place was not precise enough and we never found each other. After waiting for about 45 minutes, I realized that I was on my own. I decided to visit the botanical gardens. The gardens themselves were exquisite, but it was the architecture of the greenhouse that was the most impressive. It looked like something out of a dream.
Just next-door was the zoo. Being a huge animal fan, I decided to check it out. I expected to find the typical giraffe and elephant, but I was in for a surprise. When I first walked in I encountered free roaming nutria. I did not know what nutria were until I moved to France and mistook them for beavers. Apparently, the nutria in France were imported from Argentina, their native country. Nevertheless, I had never seen them up close. They are actually rodents, but look like beavers and are about the same size. The only thing keeping them from being absolutely adorable is that they have the tale of a rat. The nutrias at the zoo were accustomed to people and one of them literally tapped me on the leg with his paw asking for a bite to eat. They had their dens on the water and came out of the man made lake to beg for food from the tourists. Pretty nice digs! The second peculiar little specie running around was the “mara”. Before I describe these animals, I should mention that Argentina is home to the largest and funkiest rodents ever. A mara is in fact a rodent, but it looks like a little deer when it is standing. About the size of a small dog, it has a deer’s body, rabbit feet and a donkey’s head! Anyhow, these crazy critters were just chilling and roaming free at the zoo. I also saw my first black swan! By chance, two of them landed on the lake. They were absolutely stunning, just like a regular swan save that they are midnight black. After seeing tons of native monkeys (some smaller than my fist and some larger than I) I was decidedly most impressed by the zoo. I even saw a carpincho, the largest rodent in the world. It is about the size of a large dog and looks like a pig with a hamster’s head (trippy). 
After my animal encounter, I went to the Japanese gardens, the Museo de Bellas Artas and the cemetery in Recoleta. The catholic cemetery is full of little monuments (mostly in marble) where an entire family is buried together. Each little monument has a door with stairs going down to what I imagine is a room where the coffins are located. The number of recently lit candles and freshly offered flowers impressed me. Clearly, the dead are regularly visited in this country. It was kind of nice. It made death seem less distant. I imagine that regularly visiting the graves of loved ones must provide a certain perspective with respect to the life that one leads.
Thursday, June 18 - Tigre
The following day, the three of us went to Tigre. We took the train in the morning and arrived just before lunch. Tigre is a little city located on a river delta. Upon taking the boat tour, we saw the exquisite colonial houses that are located on the water. All of the locals have a little boat in order to go to the market and to drop the kids off at school. It honestly looked like a great place to live. After visiting a few shops, we took the train back to Buenos Aires.
That night Loïs and I ordered empanadas! Empanadas are like little breaded tacos whose edges have been closed together locking the meat, cheese or whatever you want inside. This was the beginning of my empanada addiction; an addiction that would see me through to the end of the trip. Empanadas can either be fried or oven roasted and personally I prefer the latter.
Friday, June 19 - Tango
Friday was a day of rest and most of the afternoon was just spent lounging around. However, Friday night was tango night.
Emmanuel’s hostel organized regular trips to one of the local tango houses in the city. Since it was not that expensive, I was not expecting too much. However, the minibus picked us up at the hostel and took us to an exquisite old time opera house. The interior was gorgeous (everything you would want to see in an opera house). I soon as I walked in I realized that I was under dressed. The ground floor was filled with the tables where we would have dinner and wine. We were lucky enough to have a table right next to the stage. Once dinner was over the show began. I had never seen so many flips and spins in my life. Those dancers danced their hearts out. Not only were there dancers, but the live band (acoustic piano, upright base, violin and two accordions) was rocking! To top it off, they mixed up the show with singers and gauchos. Gauchos are Latin American cowboys and they have a style of dance and song that is unique to Argentina. They created so much energy in the room. We had a lot of fun.
Saturday, June 20 - Salta
Loïs had to prepare for his exams and would be busy studying for the next few days so Emmanuel and I took off for Salta, in the north of Argentina. Argentina is divided up into different regions and Salta is the extreme north. We took the plane early in the morning and arrived at about noon. The good news was that in traveling north the weather had significantly warmed up. Our first stop was the youth hostel where we would spend the night. Once we were settled in, it was time to eat. We went to Doña Salta where we had the traditional “locro”. Locro is kind of like cassoulet in that it is a hearty bean stew. However, it is served with beef, sausage, chickpeas, corn and pumpkin (super good). 
We then headed to the archeological museum as we had heard that they had mummies. The museum was very well done. They explained and showed artifacts from the daily life of the Incas whose kingdom once spanned Peru, Bolivia, most of Chile and Northern Argentina (namely Salta). As the tour continued, they then began to describe some of the religious practices of the Inca people and the importance of child sacrifice. I was reminded of the tribes from the Old Testament before the Word of God was spoken to Abraham. At the end of the tour we saw the mummy. A six-year-old girl, she was in perfect condition. I almost expected to catch her breathing. Her head had been deformed due to the ancient practices used to identify royalty. She was considered to be the most beautiful and intelligent among her kingdom and was probably the daughter of a king. After having trekked for miles to climb the mountain god, she would be placed in a hole along with two other children and the riches of her people. According to the legend she would never die, but would join her ancestors as a sort of demigod. I tried to imagine what she was thinking when she died. As a Christian, it is difficult to understand how these people could remain so untouched for so long.
The people in Salta also looked very different from their counterparts in Buenos Aires. Whereas many of the people in Buenos Aires look very Spanish (the descendents of the conquistadores), the people in Salta were clearly the descendants of the Incan population that once claimed this land as their own. They are very Asian looking which made me think about the populations that migrated from northern China across the Bering straight. They are also much shorter and rounder than the “Indians” in the United States. What an enormous clash of culture it must have been when the Europeans arrived. I could not help but wish that we had done things differently.
From there, we went to the church, which was quite splendid. The people here are very religious and their faith is more richly felt than in the catholic churches that I have visited in France. The people are extremely warm and hospitable, but it is their humility that struck me the most.
We then took aerial tramway to the mountain peak just outside the city. Once we had arrived at the top, we were greeted by waterfalls and parks as well as an enormous cross. From there we could see the entire city. We would wait untill sunset before heading back down.
That night we went back to Doña Salta as we had enjoyed it so much.
Sunday, June 21 - Cachi and the beginning of desert towns
The next morning Emmanuel and I took the bus for Cachi at 6:00AM. I was so tired that I slept the entire way. Apparently, I missed some beautiful scenery. Cachi is a little village out in the middle of nowhere. The first thing that struck me about Cachi was the silence. It was so loud. Beautiful mesas surrounded the town. I had never seen mesas that were so distinct. They looked as if someone had taken a mountain and sliced off the top. I wondered how they had been formed geologically. This desert town was full of stray dogs. Mutts, some adorable and some quite horrific looking, they are all terribly sweet. In the center of the city there was a beautiful little plaza with raised planters, green grass and a central fountain. The scene was a refreshing contrast to the arid desert climate. After visiting the local museum and church, we sat down and had some empanadas for lunch.
We then hiked to the local cemetery. A black stray dog decided to accompany us along the way and we were grateful for the company. The cemetery was located on the top of a hill and there was a kind of eerie desolation about it. It was full of little monuments like the cemetery in Buenos Aires, but they were much more humble in terms of the materials that were used to build them. You would think that no one had been there in years save for the candles that had been lit in front of the tombs. It is strange to think that that is where we are all heading. The farther I move along in life, the less I think I have things figured out and the more I keep coming back to the fundamental question: what is it all about? Our new dog escorted us back to town.
After that, we hiked to some nearby Incan ruins. The dog had left us (I guess he just does cemetery tours). We saw the terraced gardens and the semi-subterranean houses built in stone by the Incas. We also saw the small houses, churches and schools of the early Spanish settlers. The little schoolhouse was so small. It looked like something out of Little House on the Prairie. It is crazy to imagine, how those people must have lived and what it must have been like to attend school there.
That night we went to dinner at one of the few restaurants in town. We were the only people there besides a couple arguing about their plans for the next day. Strangely enough, they were speaking French albeit with peculiar accents. As it turns out, they were Swiss. After getting to know them a bit, I discovered that they were taking the same flight out that I was. I would see them again at the airport just before leaving.
Monday, June 22 - Molinos and Angustaco
The following morning we took the bus to Molinos. This town was even smaller than Cachi. When we got off the bus, we made the acquaintance of an Italian girl that was traveling alone. One of the few things to do in the town was to check out the local vicuña farm. Vicuñas are basically small lamas. We had empanadas for lunch and then decided to head to the next little village, Angustaco. Unfortunately, there was no bus from Molinos to Angustaco. The three of us decided to hitchhike it. Once we got onto the main road, we ran into a native woman who was doing the same thing. After waiting for about an hour, we had all gotten to know each other fairly well and we also began to realize that no one was coming. Emmanuel, Margherita (our newfound Italian friend) and I all headed back to the village to see about paying someone who had a car. Margherita had just finished law school in Italy and her boldness along with her negotiation skills meant that she was not going to accept the fact that the natives drove up the price as soon as they saw a white face. The poor native man who had the car did not know what hit him. Not only did he take us for a rock bottom price, but we also got him to pick up the native woman along the way. I almost felt bad, but my wallet was too happy.
Angustaco was by far my favorite among all of the desert towns that we visited. The city square was so lovely. It is the kind of town where everybody knows everybody. There was just such a great feeling in the atmosphere and we were of course welcomed by the local stray dogs. Margherita hooked us up with a hostel that was incredibly cheap, 15 pesos (the equivalent of about 3 euros or 4 dollars). That night we stumbled upon the most amazing restaurant. It was essentially the home of an elderly couple that had grown up in the town. We were the only people in the place besides the guest of honor, their grandson who had come to spend the week with them. They had their own little wine vineyard attached to the house and tons of antiques hanging on the walls. While the grandmother made dinner, the grandfather showed us the post cards from all of the people that had eaten there and decided to write upon their return home. He also invited us to try some of his homemade wine! It was delicious. To top it off, he entertained us with some guitar and a bit of singing. The meat we had was great and by the time we left, we were all enamored with the little old couple.
Angustaco was also surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscape. The mountains that carved the horizon were marked by reds, browns and greens and I felt privileged to be there. We slept well that night.
Tuesday, June 23 - Cafayate
The next morning the three of us took the bus to Cafayate. Cafayate was a larger town a bit further South. Upon our arrival, Margherita introduced us to facturas, delicious little Argentinean pastries. After breakfast, Margherita had to go see about meeting up with a friend of hers and said that she would be back in about a half an hour.
Emmanuel and I found a hostel and, as luck would have it, they were offering a free visit to the local wine vineyards in Cafayate along with our stay. We convinced them to let Margherita come along even though she was not staying at the some hostel and left just twenty minutes later. The visit started at Colome, specializing in malbec and cabernet sauvignon. Colome is known as the highest and oldest vineyard in the area and the majority of the vines produce malbec grapes. The vineyard was like something out of a movie, so picturesque. They explained how the wine was produced and the transition from feet stomping to the use of machinery. Their machinery came from Germany, Carcassonne (the town right next to where I live in France) and California! I was right at home. We also got to taste some of their select wines. The second winery was Etchart, a bit more modern and known for its Torrentés wine. This winery was built in the mid-1800s and produces not only Torrontes but also malbec, merlot, chardonnay, and cabernet sauvignon. I found the wine a bit too flowery and was not really a fan. The last winery that we visited was Nanni. The Nanni winery has been in the same Italian family since its origins and all of the wines produced are one hundred percent organic. The hot days, cold nights and dry air work like a natural pesticide. The impurities in the wine are taken out using egg whites. Once the impurities have clumped to the egg whites they are then filtered out. The clumps are used to feed the lamas that live on the plantation and help to produce warm fertilizer. This was by far my favorite winery as far as taste is concerned. The desert wine was absolutely scrumptious.
That afternoon we met back up with Margherita and went to the Casa de las Empanadas. I was a happy man. The walls of this restaurant were filled with the messages of tourists who had passed prior to our arrival. I am sure the words “these empanadas are delicious” can be found in at least twenty different languages. They were in fact delicious and we tried one of each kind they make. Margherita also introduced us to alfajores. An alfajor is a small Argentinean cake with dulce de leche inside and covered in chocolate. It was at this moment that I realized how extremely fortunate I was to have met Margherita. Unfortunately, she would be staying in Cafayate and Emmanuel and I would be heading back to Salta the next morning.
After that, we took guided tour through the nearby canyons. The colors in the landscape were breathtaking. We saw the famous mountain of seven colors. The mountainside revealed the different layers of sediment that had formed the site once completely covered in water. The mountain looked like a rainbow with greens, yellows, purples and reds. Surrounding this mountain were other mountains, one red, one brown and the other blue! I took one of the green rocks there as a memory. The guide let us out of the car to hike around in some of the more interesting spots. Some of the mountains carved out by the water made interesting shapes. One of them looked just like the engine of an old time train. Another, known as the obelisk looked like just that. We then went to the famous Garganta del Diable. This mountain formation is produced by an enormous waterfall during the flood season. Looking up through the tunnel like formation, it really did feel like I was in the devil’s throat. The last formation that we visited is known as the amphitheatre. This formation is well named and looked just like a giant amphitheatre made of mountain. Upon our arrival a group of native musicians was playing the most beautiful traditional music and the entire space was filled with sound. I played the tourist and bought one of their handmade flutes. I can’t play it yet, but I will get there. Just before leaving, one of the girls who had been taking the tour said she was going to stay there and try and catch the next bus to Salta. We left her by the side of the road and night was starting to fall so I was kind of worried about her. She was from the pays Basque on the French/Spanish boarder and we had kind of made friends with her. I said a little prayer that she would be okay.
That night Emmanuel and I went out to dinner. Unbeknown to us, it was the festival of San Juan. In the middle of dinner children came for out of every nook and cranny playing drums and parading down the streets to meet for a local fiesta. As they passed by, people threw caramels into the streets and the children quickly scrambled to collect them. It was kind of like Halloween Argentinean style.
Wednesday, June 24 - Back to Salta
The next morning we went to visit the fabrication of alfajores in Cafayate. They had alfajores of every flavor, so I took a few for the road. White chocolate was decidedly my favorite. We took the bus back to Salta and, as luck would have it, we ran into the Pays Basque girl. I was relieved to see that she was okay and took it as an answer to prayer. Shortly thereafter, I would leave Emmanuel who was going to travel further north to Jujuy. I took the plane back to Buenos Aires to meet back up with Loïs.
Thursday, June 25 - Busing it
That morning, Loïs and I got up early to take the bus to the South of Argentina, Puerto Madryn in the famous Patagonia. Loïs did really well on his exams so it was probably a good thing that we let him study. We traveled by bus for over 17 hours getting ever closer to the South Pole.
Friday, June 26 - Patagonian gold rush!
We arrived at Peurto Madryn at 6:00AM in the morning. Buses are a very common form of transport in South America and they are usually pretty nice, providing you with food, games and movies along the way. That being said, spending an entire day on a bus gets old quick. There was one motivating factor that made it worth the trip, whales. Before having left for Argentina, I was watching Animal Planet in my apartment and they had a special on whales. The documentary was being done in Argentina and it was at that moment that I decided that I had to see them.
Because buses are so commonly used, the bus station is kind of like a mini airport filled with travel agencies. The travel agencies organized little trips into the national park and out onto the water. Unfortunately, all of the travel agencies opened at 7:30 so we had to wait. Once things finally opened, we visited a couple of different agencies to get an estimate on the cost. Loïs was completely out of cash, so this was going to be my treat. We found a travel agency that we liked and he told us that a tour was being organized tomorrow. For the two of us the trip would cost 500 pesos. I gave him the 300 I had on me and told him that I would go to the ATM and be right back with the rest... little did I know, things would not run so smoothly.
I went to the ATM, but it was not working. Loïs and I then went to three or four different banks to use the ATM. The funny thing about Argentina is that there is always a line in front of the ATM, so you have to wait about ten to fifteen minutes. After about the fourth try, I realized that it was not the ATMs that were not working, it was my card! I figured the bank had automatically blocked my card since there had been so many foreign transactions. We then went to an internet café. My bank statement was fine, so it had to be my first assumption. I called the bank, but my agency was closed on Fridays. In France it is only your personal banker who has the power to do anything related to your account, a fact that I find insanely frustrating; but that is how it is. I called the customer service and they said that unbeknown to me I had a limit on how much I could withdraw within a certain timeframe. Having never gone past it in France, I had no idea. I tried to explain that I was in Southern Argentina without a penny and that this was kind of an emergency. I showed him that I had a plenty of money in my account and that I was going to be stuck there if they did not do anything. He did not bite. I do not even know why they have customer service in France. I have never been helped when I need it, a fact that I can say that with absolute confidence. It is so frustrating as an American who comes from a country where the customer is always right. In France, the customer is an idiot unless he can prove otherwise. As I was pondering my newfound intense hatred for this man I had never met, I thought that I would check my American account. There was money there too. Unfortunately, I had left my American card back in Buenos Aires because I was afraid of loosing both cards should I have been robbed. It was now about noon and we had not eaten since six in the morning.
It was at that moment that we happened upon a Western Union. I thought that maybe I could call my father and ask him to wire some money. We used the last pesos we had to call my Dad. Luckily, he answered. Unfortunately, with the time difference it was going to take some time. We then went back to the travel agency to explain the situation and to see if we could get some of the money back so that we could eat. The agency was closed and would not be open till 4:30. We waited. At 5:30, the guy still had not shown up. It was like the universe was against this trip. We went back to Western Union, still no transfer. I then begged the lady at the phone booth to let us call one more time, promising her that I was good for it and that I would pay her back as soon as I could. She accepted. She must have been a mother. Finally, we got the transfer number. We went back to Western Union. My Dad had sent more than necessary and had proven himself once again to be my hero! I do not think that Loïs and I had ever been so excited to see money.
It was now close to seven at night and we were starving, but we had money. Unfortunately, none of the restaurants opened until eight. It is like an unspoken law in Argentina. We then found a little hotel and headed for the local marine museum, Museo provincial del Hombre y el Mar. The museum was beautiful and they had a giant squid that was pretty awesome. Still waiting for the restaurants to open, we had a choice; we could either drink or go for ice cream. Ice cream in Argentina is almost as good as the ice cream in Italy. I do not know why ice cream is not made like that elsewhere in the world, but we decided to make the most of it. I had pistachio and chocolate and it was delectable. I think the fact that we were starving might have played a role as well.
Finally, that the restaurants were open. We chose an all you can eat joint for obvious reasons. The food was superb. This was not the Sizzler kind of all you can eat restaurant. It was very classy. They had a traditional parilla where the butcher cuts the meat and cooked in front of you. We had a full plate of meat, then a full plate of pasta and numerous starters. We were happy. Thank God for parents. They also had jello, a desert that I had not seen in years. The French find it absolutely disgusting and I found out that Loïs is no exception. I enjoyed eating in front of him as he made faces of bitter disgust.
Saturday, June 27 - The beauty of Patagonia
The next morning we had breakfast in the hotel while waiting for the mini tour bus to come pick us up. Peurto Madryn is located right next to an enormous peninsula, Península Valdés. On each side of the Peninsula are to large gulfs where whales, sea lions, elephant seals and penguins come in to breed and give birth to their young. I am not quite sure which beach was our first stop as it was not very clear on the map, but I think it was Playa El Doradillo. In any case, as soon as we stepped out of the vehicle we could see whales. These were baleen whales or ballenas francas. They are not as large as blue whales. The larger females grow to about 17 to 18 meters long. Nevertheless, they are enormous. We saw the mothers with there newborn young as well as breeding groups from about 15 meters away. Whereas the mothers are dark blue, the babies are born pure white so you cannot miss them. The breeding groups are composed of a single female and multiple males. It is kind of gloomy, but the mating actually works like an organized abuse. The female tries to escape the males, but they work together to keep her in their group. She swims backwards with her stomach at the surface and her back to the sea floor in order to keep from mating. However, the males just wait until she has to breathe and once she turns over they themselves swim belly up in order to do the deed. Nature is usually pretty gore when it gets down to the details. Nevertheless, it was such an incredible experience to see animals that are so large from such a small distance. We even saw that one of the whales was grey. The guide said that grey baleen whales are extremely rare and that he had only seen that coloration a few times in his life.
The next stop was Istmo Armeghino, a museum and whale watching spot. The guide said that the museum had the cleanest toilets in the entire world so that we should make the most of it. From there we went to Punta Pirámide where we were to take the boat out to see the whales from even closer up. However, there was a scheduling conflict, so we would have to come back at three. The guide drove us past the two great salt lakes. These salt cavities formed because the land is actually below sea level. On the way we saw wild guanaco, which are the species of lama in the area, and a pair choíque. Choíque are native birds to Patagonia that basically look like ostridges except that they are grey brown and a bit smaller. We then passed by a little lake full of flamingos. The funny thing is that the water was pink as well. Apparently, the flamingos get their pink color from the food they eat.
The minibus stopped at Punta Cantor where we got out of the vehicle. The guide said that it was not breeding season so there were not very many elephant seals, but there were enough for me. “Usually, the beach is covered”, he said, but that day there were about twenty. We even saw young males play fighting and acquiring a skill that would be incredibly important in the future. During breeding season, the males dominate as many females as they can on the beach and are extremely aggressive toward each other. It is only the male that has the elephant like snout that they blow up with air when in combat. He is also about three to four times as large as the female. There are two species of elephant seals, the largest of which is in Argentina. The northern specie lives in California! I had the feeling that I had come to Argentina to see what was in my own backyard. We walked a bit further where we got a very close up view of three juveniles. They were like three fat little logs each snug against the other. Apparently, they can spend up to fourteen days sleeping on the beach without moving. Sounds good to me!
Sunday, June 28 - Asado
After traveling all night and into the afternoon, Loïs and I made it back to his apartment where his roommates were having an “asado” in honor of his leaving the next day. An asado is like a giant barbecue, Argentinean style. All of the meat is cooked at the same time over an enormous grill that is about the size of a child’s bed. This would be my only asado in Argentina, so I was grateful to have been able to take part in it. Two of Loïs friend’s came as well. They shared my passion for the French culture and language and were going to be languages assistants just as I had been when I first moved to France. Clearly, we had a lot to talk about and we became fast friends.
Monday and Tuesday, June 30-31 - Adios!
The next morning Loïs left for France. As I had two more days in Argentina, I spent most of my time writing this journal and then meeting back up with Emmanuel who would fly out on the same day.
