Rocket to the crypt

Walking through Bs. As. is tough enough what with the cars, taxis, buses and pedestrians all claiming right of way at all times. Plus you are always on the lookout for rogue dog-deposits and missing sidewalk tiles while trying to catch a glance at that gargoyle above you. Navigating isn't always easy on foot, so why not take our lives in our hands and get on the street itself to join the foray. Renting a couple of bright orange cruisers to ride one of the busiest streets was exciting in an oh-geez-i-might-die kind of way - somewhat fitting since we were heading to the Cementerio de La Recoleta. The buses spew filthy exhaust making it dark ahead, motos pass within inches while hubcaps whizz off cars and towards Sandra's bike - all this while circumnavigating a huge roundabout and trying to make it all the way before the light changes and it's a full on charge of headlights towards you. Whew! Quite a change from the relaxed rides to bodegas we were used to.

We made it to La Cementerio in one piece, dying of heat and sucking back pomello juice like crazy. This place is one of the largest above-ground cemetaries in the world and the final resting place for many of Argentina's leaders, hereoes, religious figures and of course, the centerpiece for the tourists - Eva 'Evita' Peron's gravesite. Everything in this massive maze is over the top ornate - some of the mausoleums are well over three stories tall and decked out like miniature cathedrals with huge sculptures, crosses and weeping angels.



It's rather sobering to walk through the pathways and notice that behind the broken glass on that particular window are shelves of coffins, and downstairs in the crypt are 16 more. You can reach out and touch the brass handles and curved tops, weathered and dusty from years of sitting. Cats wander amongst the tombs, caretakers mop and sweep the steps and fresh flowers greet visitors to family plots.



The cemetary was started in 1820 as a 'regular' graveyard but became the elite resting place it is now in 1881. Since then it has become somewhat of an open-air museum of glorious artwork, carvings and architecture in the most devoted of styles. We could have spent many more hours here walking and taking photos, contemplating, but had to return our bikes by the end of the day so into the sun and back to the black top. If we didn't make it we told each other - nothing too fancy, ok?

Full Circle

We rode our final coche cama bus to Buenos Aires - arriving early on a hot, humid day to the city where it all began - for us that is. It's with a "world of experience" that we navigate the city again. With only 6 weeks under our belts, it really feels like we have learned a lot about the language, the customs and dealing with day to day life on the move. No more ham on every meal. Hardly a confused look on the faces of bus drivers, servers or shopkeepers we inquire. We rarely pull out our little black book of translations anymore and we are actually getting compliments from Porteños about our "bueno español" to which we reply "really?, thanks...er, gracias!"

Coming back here to Bs. As. felt good. Not only is it a fantastic city to look at and feel, but the neighbourhood we settled in - San Telmo - is rich in history and charm. Artists and musicians mingle and perform under the shade of trees aside antique shops selling silver from the 19th century, squeeze boxes decades old and seltzer bottles from days gone by.



There's Tango in the square during the day surruonded by some of the finest, classic cafes in all of Argentina where folks like Carlos Gardel - the 'songbird of Buenos Aires' - and South America's most famous poet/writer Jorge Luis Borges used to hang out and compose their art. These places still have their original espresso machines from the mid-1800s, admittedly more for show than use these days - some of them appear ready to fly away with all the crazy doo-dads coming off them.



San Telmo's charm rubs off into the cobblestone streets and narrow sidewalks - it's almost like visiting Europe but it's still a Latin American country we're in and signs of that are everywhere. Horses with carts sometimes compete with taxis under gorgeous, French-inspired colonial apartments that are hundreds of years old. Every doorway is eight feet tall, every key is of the old, hang-it-around-your-neck antique variety. Rooms are never under 12-feet tall and the attention to every detail, from door-knockers to intricate caritedades is incredible. It's a city that lives it's grandeur from the past, still reeling in some aspects from the hard times of a few years ago, but, creating a new reality that only adds to the concrete history all around.

Wandering the streets of Bs. As. really is a feast for the senses as this city never sleeps, in fact it only really seems to wake up late in the eve when the music starts up, the lights go down and the energy perculates into the night. We've got our work cut out for us in the next few days...

(Still) Waiting for the Wind

Córdoba province is in the geographical heart of Argentina, surrounded by the central sierras - lovely rocky, green mountains that seem to meander in all directions for miles. Two hours north of Córdoba city is La Cumbre - a funky little town that prides itself on being one of the top spots in the world for para-pente (para-gliding). With this in mind we hopped a minibus from the city and booked a spot with a few of the best pilots around. The first morning we were scheduled to fly, we awoke to thunder and rain - obviously not the best conditions. When the sun came out at noon we prayed for wind, but alas, nothing doing in that department. A little bit of cabalgatas in the mountains took our minds off ´being stuck on earth´ (and our horses were actively interested in galloping whenever you made the notion which was very fun).
Day two and again we awoke early in the morn to bad news - sunshine a plenty, but absolutely no wind to speak of. Damn! Time was getting shorter and we still hadn´t even been to the launch site. This time we spent the day lounging by the backyard pool, sharing maté with vacationing porteños and feasting at a vegetarian-friendly asado with a dozen friends. It was pretty good alright, but we better be gliding tomorrow!
Day three: bad news at 9am but a glimmer of hope for midday. Finally, at noon we were picked up by our pilots, whisked out to Cuchi Corral and watched as one solitary hang-glider took off and quickly floated down to earth in no time at all.



Not good. The wind was changing and pilots were building their wings, when the the flag posts finalized everything. It was gusting - hard - but in the wrong direction. No flying today, and, sadly for us, no flying in Argentina this time round.
We were bummed. Luckily, the town of La Cumbre and the hostel we stayed at made up for this disappointment, and we now have friends in Buenos Aires to visit in a few days. And maybe, we´ll be back one day bringing good luck and fair winds in tow.

Heroes and History

Casa de Che
Ernesto ´Che´ Guevera´s legend is strong here in Argentina. He was born in Rosario, went to university in Córdoba and Buenos Aires and lived his adolecense in Alta Gracia, a small mountain town just south of Córdoba. We went for a visit to the Museo de la Casa de Che - one of the homes little Ernestito lived in while growing up. It´s now a museum filled with photos, letters and writings, bicycles, chess boards and cigars.



The highlight was seeing La Poderosa II - the 1939 Norton motorcycle that Che rode along with his amigo Alberto Granado though South America in 1951/52. It was on this trip that Che formed many of his ideas on Marxism and armed, socialist revolution as the only means for change. Within a few years of that journey, he would reconnect with Fidel Castro in Guatemala and enter Cuba as the leader of a revolution that brought Castro to power and installed Guevera as the head of the national bank among other things. It was interesting seeing some of the currency and state documents from this era on display. The house was recently visited by Castro and Hugo Chavez, but we were there on the ´gratis mercioles´ along with dozens of Argentines intersted in knowing more about one of their national heroes. Though he is usually identified with Cuba, in Argentina, there is no mistake that Che Guevera was, and remains, one of their own.

The Jesuits
In Córdoba province, and in much of Northwestern Argentina, the influence of the Jesuits is strong. Who these people are exactly is still a bit of a mystery to us, but the legacy in architecture that they left behind is quite stunning.



Many of the extremely well-preserved ´estancias´ date from the 16th century. In this province alone there are five world heritage sites, and in the city of Córdoba there are univerisities and entire blocks of Jesuit buildings from the 1600s. They made the first dams, started the first schools, built massive stone churches and raised cattle, spun looms and essentially made little civilizations wherever they went. Until they were unceremoniously expulsed from the continent in 1767 that is. In the city, they recently uncovered an entire block of underground crypts that are over 400 years old. There is a lot of history here and it´s funny to think that while Buenos Aires was still a backwater pueblo, the cities of Mendoza, Córdoba and Salta to the north were bustling economic, cultural and artisitic centres that really shaped Argentina´s national identity.

Of Stars and Skies

After a taste of small-town Argentina, we felt we needed to check out some more of that relaxed pace. Enter Barreal, where the elevation (1650m) exceeds the population. Nestled in the scenic Valle de Calingasta, smack between the rumpled, multi-hued geological oddities known as the precordillera (think of them as the weirdo cousins to the foothills of the Rockies) and a stretch of the Andes known as the Cordillera de Ansilta including Cerro Mercedario, second only to Aconcagua at 6770m.



The setting was divine with weeping willows pouring over the empty dirt roads. Finding a home at Don Lisandro Hospedaje, we were treated to amazing homecooked vegetarian food (and no pasta either!) and a tranquil yard to relax and take in the views.

Barreal is known for having some of the best sky in the world for star-gazing, and at Observatorio El Leoncito we could see why. Cloudless, perfect skies in all directions. We were able to sample some of that night sky for ourselves when we walked into the precordillera one night with a blanket and thermos of wine (the best we've had, actually - Callia Alta Syrah Bonardo). The southern skies put on a show, with La Cruce de Sur, Las Tres Marias (aka Orion's belt) and a few shooting stars lighting up the clear skies. (There is a pretty good chance we saw a puma as well, when some car lights shown across the road below a very large cat passed into the light, not 50m away. Thinking there were no pumas in this desert-like area we said, "wow! that´s a big cat!" Not until the rangers at El Leoncito handed us warning flyers and stickers the next day did we realize the area is packed with them.)

Just outside of town was La Pampa El Leoncito, a completely dry former lake bed that stretches for 12km. Perfect for land-sailing - carrovelismo - but we just took it on in a 4wd for some pics. Stay out here too long and you'll end up as bleached white bones in the dust.
Our final night in the Andes was spent watching the sunset over Mercedario from the red rocky hills where the wilderness takes over from the town of Barreal. From here on, we head east to complete our loop via Córdoba and the Atlantic Coast.

Further musings along the way...

No Pee Free
It´s strange, in a country where people take such pride in having clean stores, restaurants and sidewalks, that the washrooms in almost every place are downright scary. No TP, no toilet seats, no towels, soap or often running water. You may dine in a classy joint, finish off your meal with champagne and tiramisu in the finest of environments, then excuse yourself only to be transported into a dungeon-like afterthought of a restroom. What´s interesting is that the finest cans are in gas stations, opposite to what we are used to in Canada. And, to top things off, in every public location, there is an attendant who does not keep things in order, but sits and collects pesos for the privilege of relief and expects more if you are in need of a square or two. In Chile, you cannot even enter the room without paying a turnstile guard 100 pesos to get in. The one rule: Always BYOTP.

Throwing Out Plastic
It´s hard, but when you don´t trust the taps you are destined to consume bottled water. Unfortunately, this means having to toss them out when you´re done. In the trash. No recycling exists that we´ve seen other than in private school yards. And what they do with that plastic is unknown. Paper, metal tins, glass bottles (except beer and wine), plastics of all kinds and organics all get tossed. Having grown up with the Three R´s it´s a difficult thing to get used to.

Helados
Some of the finest ice cream in the world is made in Argentina. So they say. But we´ve done a fair share of sampling and it could very well be true. Frutillas for Sandra and delicious Argentine Dulce de Leche for Dave. At the local "helados artesanal" a double portion in a waffle cone runs you about two pesos and the desert is sculpted into a tower of creamy delight. But don´t lick it with your tongue or you´ll get looked at funny - there´s a reason that tiny spoon is poking out of the top. This isn´t DQ, but small-batch, homemade goodness for those hot days and nights.

Lemon Aid
Never order fresh lemonade. Unless you like 13 lemons squeezed into a glass and served semi-warm. One huge gulp through a straw when parched is enough to kill your tastebuds for the rest of the day.

Saddle up

Valle Fertil in the rocky hills made a great base for exploring the crazy desert surrounding it. The hills here are covered in those classic cacti you see in Road Runner cartoons - "stick ´em up!" - and there are succulents growing in every crevice. It´s a sleepy little town that really goes gung-ho for helping out travellers, most of whom are here en route to Ischigualasto and Talampaya. We stayed in a nifty little hotel on a side street not too far from El Cardon, a small, family-run place offering cabalgatas - excursions by horseback.
It was finally time for me, Dave, to fulfill a life-long dream of mounting a steed for the wilderness. Yes, it´s true. Though 32-years old, the only horse I have ever been on was called "horsey" and I think it was either a) a stuffed head on a stick, or b) a pony at the Calgary Stampede. Either way, it was high time I got to check out this new fangled form of transportation.



We hooked up with Carlos who took us on a three-hour excursion into the mountains beyond. I rode Pintado, the best-behaved horse of the bunch, while Sandra took Flacca, who was more interested in eating every bit of plant he saw along the way. Carlos led us along "main street" towards the edge of town and into a deep valley that was constantly alive with condors hunting above. At one point we saw a dozen condors all gracefully swooping amongst the rocky hills. They rarely bother to flap, instead curling their massive wings under and unfolding them to keep the glide going.
We rode our horses though streams, past petroglyphs and into some very dense foliage. Halfway through the trip we actually got up to speed a bit - from slow canter to brisk gallop - which caused us to burst into uncontrolled laughter while bouncing hard on the back of the poor horses. They must have been wondering what our deal was, with our English commands, strange directional controls with the reins, and somewhat agonized whineying when going too fast. Yup, we were a bit sore after a few hours. And the next day even more so. Being on horseback is a view we could certainly get used to...so long as it is followed by a good massage