Argentina, day 8 - From Buenos Aires to Santa Fe

They had told me that Buenos Aires feels like Athens. It does. Lots of traffic, lots of noise, dirty pavements (maybe even dirtier than those in Athens), lots of people. And demonstrations in every corner.

I got out of the hotel without map and without camera, I just felt like wandering. At first, it was as if I had been abruptly, violently taken from the place where I had been yesterday. Two very distant worlds, not only because of the kilometres that separate them. I miss that other one. I would have liked to spend more, much more, time there.

I took advantage of the fact that my wandering around took me to Teatro Colon, and I went in for the guided tour. Argentines keep congratulating me on how well I speak and understand their language... Apparently so well, that I paid one third of the price for the guided tour, being considered a resident. I didn´t correct them, I enjoyed the feeling.

On the way to Jorge Newbury airport, on either side of the 'autopista' there is an extensive slum. It´s incredible the quantity of 'houses'. And the poverty. It´s so close to the road that it looks as if the autopista was a 'crown' they decided to put on the slum. They told me that it´s called Villa 31 and this is where many immigrants live, especially from Paraguay and Bolivia. The situation is totally out of control, so the mayor of Buenos Aires decided to give bright colours to the 'houses'. And there are already organize´d tours...

Another delay at the airport. The second. Three hours this time. Anyway, things have gone smoothly in general, I am not complaining. It´s just that delays are tricky, they give me plenty of time to think.

So, in Santa Fe, in a real argentine home, in the company of very good friends, and the friends of the friends. To celebrate Agustín´s wedding.

Argentina, day 7 - Quebrada de Huacamaca

Dust and poverty. This is what marks the north-west of Argentina. And people always sweeping. What for...? I really felt a tourist, terrible thing. You come, you see the views, people try to sell you things, you don´t mix, you don´t talk, you go away.

Today I went up the Humahuaca gorge, all the way to the small town of Humahuaca. Whenever the van stopped somewhere, vendors would approach the door, selling all sorts of small souvenirs. Small children would be around their mothers, older children would also be selling things. I thought they were all too warmly dressed for the summer temperatures we encountered up on those altitudes.

Another beautiful gorge, Humahuaca, impressive colours and lots of traces of the Incas. Villages that reminded me a lot of others I had seen many years ago in the egyptian desert and the cemetaries high above in the hills, for the spirits to be closer to the gods. Up to a certain point, on our way from Salta, the scenery was quite green. Then it was the desert again. And dust. Important battles took place in this region in the 19th century for Argentina´s independence. The border with Bolivia was 160 Kms away.

It is very nice to see the lively central squares of every place we passed from, small or big. We got to Humahuaca at lunch time, so, besides the people selling things to the tourists, there were lots of people having lunch in the open air, things they had brought from home. I had time to go to the local market, not the one for the tourists. Lots of fruits and vegetables, things for the home, clothes. And poverty. What do those people dream of, I wondered. They probably dream of something. What? What do they want for their kids? What can they hope for their kids...?

On the way back, we stopped in Uquía. The church paintings were produced by Indians in Cuzco, in the 17th century, under the supervision of the Spanish. They told them to paint angels. They painted the Spanish, with their weapons and everything, and they put wings on them. Angels of good and evil.

Interesting group of people today. A young couple from Israel, travelling for five months in the Latin America. And a brother a sister from Columbia, he working in Buenos Aires, she living with their mother in Geneva. Interesting, cheerful people, they were very good company.

Rarely do I start talking to people sitting next to me in the plane. Unless... I have something to say about the book they are reading. On my way to Ushuaia, the man next to me was reading Naomi Klein´s “The shock doctrine”. That led ot fourty fives minutes of conversation (a monologue, really; it seems he was eager to talk). The man sitting next to me today in the flight from Salta to Buenos Aires was reading Saramago´s “The story of the siege of Lisbon”. Two hours of conversation, the whole flight, about everything, really.

Argentina, day 6 - Salta and Quebrada de Cafayate

The buses were full last night at 11 in Salta. They were also full at 7.30 in the morning. The city wakes up early. Little children going to school with their sacks on their backs, people going to work, small grocery stores and cafés opening. Some girls wear uniforms like the ones we see in mexican soaps.

I am still impressed with the enormous quantity of old cars in this country. The majority in a really bad state. But they circulate. And the give the place a very special character. As for the dark windows, apparently it´s a fashion...

The views of Quebrada de Cafayate (a million-years-old gorge) are absolutely impressive. The variety of reds, greys, browns and pinks is unbelievable and they keep changing as the sun moves. It amazes me how diverse the landscapes of this country are. This is so different from where I was yesterday.

Funny group the one at the excursion today. Young people, mainly. Portuguese-Australians, Argentine-Australians, Greek-Canadians, an Italian living in London, a Greek living in Lisbon... It´s not that easy to define oneself these days. Lots of stories on the way, about trips, mainly. The Italian will be taking the bus tomorrow to go to Atacama, in Chile. Thirteen hours crossing the Andes. I was sooooooo tempted to do... what I´ve always wanted to do. Next time...

We stopped for lunch in the town of Cafayate. I sat with the three Argentines-Argentines. This trip is very well organized, but I don´t get to mix and talk with the people who actually live in this country. How can we feel the country otherwise. I then took a stroll alone. Shops were getting ready to close for the siesta, kids were going back to school for the afternoon. Young students in Cafayate wear a white coat, making them all look like small doctors or milkmen. Many of them were sitting under the trees of the main square during their break. Almost all were socializing having a computed in front of them.

The suburbs of Salta are extremely poor. The houses, the roads, the shops, the cars (...), everything is poor. Most streets do not have pavements or asphalt. With the exception of some of the main ones, maybe. You feel the dust in your mouth. But it´s nice to see the kids play in the middle of all that.

We got back to Salta at 6.30. The city was extremely busy at that hour. The main square, Plaza 9 de Julio, absolutely packed with people. With this summer temperature, who wants to be in... The cathedral beautifully lit on one of the square´s sides. Very impressive inside. All this movement felt so good. And the faces around me - so beautiful some of them, others so expressive - reminding me that I am on Inca territory.

The visit to the Museo de Arqueologia de Alta Montaña just half an hour before it closed was a very touching experience. Seeing the mummy of the ‘niño’, which was found up on the mountain, is something really special. His little hand looked so soft, I felt like caressing it. I would have been sorry if I had missed it.

I am where I´ve always dreamt of coming. It it real?

Argentina, day 5 - From El Calafate to Salta

The strong wind seems to be constant in El Calafate. It feels as if it could lift you and everything else with you. I took a taxi to Glaciarium, the new museum of patagonian ice. The taxi driver (who I doubt was old enough to have a driving license), had the back of his seat in sleeping, not driving, position, answered his mobile phone, left the wheel to change gear with his other hand, and drove at about 100Kms/hr while it seemed that the car would take off with that wind.

Glaciarium looks like a centre for studying UFOs in the middle of nowhere. It´s impressive, lots of new technology (too much, maybe, too expensive and fancy) and amazing things one can learn about ice and glaciars. I was the only visitor this morning. I felt utterly crazy when trying to walk the 50 metres from the point where the taxi left me to the museum entrance in the middle of the rain and the wind.

El Calafate lives of tourism. In the main street you just see agencies, souvenir and handicraft shops, cafés, restaurants, banks and... the casino. More apartments and hotels are being built, its airport will soon be twice its actual size, more tourists will arrive, more people will make their living of it. Nevertheless, for the time being, numbers seem to be under control. Nowhere, so far, have a felt like being part if a huge crowd, as it happens in other places.

Whenever I am leaving a place, I find myself taking a good look at it, trying to lock it in my memory for ever. Or trying to take in as many images as possible, until next time...

Two and a half hours of delay at the airport resulted in changing planes in less than five minutes in Buenos Aires (they closed the airplane door behind me) and arriving in Salta with no luggage. But just from what I saw on my way to the hotel from the airport, I know I´ve arrived to my destination. Who cares if I have not got a pyjama for tonight. I am too happy to be here. Finally.

Argentina, day 4 - El Calafate, Perito Moreno

I stood in front of it and I cried. It was overwhelming. It comes down from the Andes, silent, majestic, imposing. I stood in front of it, soaked up to the knee, cold, tiny. And I cried. Perito Moreno.

I woke up at six and I couldn´t go back to sleep. I wanted to get out and start the day as soon as possible. I was, after all, going to see Perito Moreno. The sun rises after 8.30 at this time of the year. I had to wait quite a bit before I could draw my curtains open and enjoy the morning view of Lago Argentino. I opened the window, it was cold, a light rain intensifying the smells of the countryside, the sun making everything shine. I felt full, I felt happy.

Perito Moreno is 80 Kms away from Calafate. The landscape changes dramatically in this 80 Kms. The desert turns to steppe, then its place is taken by a forest – at its best with its autumn colours - and then, finally, the glaciar.


We first approached it with a catamaran. Since we got in the forest it didn´t stop raining and just before we got on the boat the rain intensified. Getting on the open-air upper deck to get a better look at the glaciar was a big adventure. The wind got us soaked, the cold was intense, the effort to protect the camera hopeless, but the view was aboslutely amazing. The glaciar had an intense blue colour thanks to (...) the lack of sun. It looked huge, compact, impressive.

We then got back to the bus to go up to the “passarelas” and get to see the glaciar from the front. Nothing can prepare us for what expects us there. No photos, no books, nothing. I was left speechless, breatlhess... It´s huge, it´s a monument, it´s a miracle. I was taking a photo when I heard something like a thunder. I turned around. It was actually a part of the glaciar breaking. The sounds of a ‘live’ glaciar are amazing.


On the way back they offered us calafate liquor. Now we can be sure to come back here. A joyful peruvian man, in an amazing good mood and with a fantastic sense of humour, made our excursion even better. Once we got out of the forest and into the steppe again, the sun finally appeared and with it a beautiful rainbow. The colours got intense again, the wind, extremely strong, made it difficult for the driver to keep the van straight in that never-ending desert road.

I took a stroll in El Calafate before getting back to the hotel. A small Las Vegas, with its own casino (...), in the middle of this desert. Just with better taste. The wind getting stronger and stronger, not cold though. It gave the clouds the most amazing shapes and aspects.

I was back in my room in time to enjoy the afternoon colours of Lago Argentino and the sky from my huge window. The sun had finally started descending. It can be really disorientating for a South European watching the sun in these latitudes.

Argentina, day 3 - From Ushuaia to El Calafate

Ushuaia woke up rainy and cold today. And very-very quiet. Easter Sunday, I reminded myself (you can´t really feel it unless you are able to find a church and share it with other orthodox). I believe what makes places like this bearable on days like this it´s warm friendships and cosy cafés. Ushuaia has a couple of those, Andino and Tante Sara. The friends are very far away, sending sms with their easter wishes.

I visited the Museo del Presidio, in Ushuaia´s old and famous prison. It also houses the Museo Maritimo, Museo Antartico and an art gallery. Poor materials, but a very strong story. That of the prisoners, who ended up here and left to die, forgotten by everyone; murderers (including 16-year-old “petiso orejudo”, who murdered or tortured a number of babies and children in early 20th century Buenos Aires), mixed with thieves, mixed with political prisoners (the intellectual Ricardo Rojas, author of Archipélago, was among them). But also that of the expeditions to the Antarctic, of which the Argentines are obviously very proud. Nevertheless, it was in front of the photos of the Yamanas that I stood the most. The “do not disturb” sign in my hotel room showed the image of a Yamana mother with her baby on her back. Too late... The last survivor is a 88-year-old lady, still living in Ushuaia.

It was pouring down when I boarded the plane to El Calafate. But just before we took off, it opened up and the sun shined for a while. I looked at the town and kept telling myself “Ushuaia, Ushuaia, Ushuaia”... I finally came and I was leaving already. Three months ago that name was just a dream.

Arriving to El Calafate was very far from what I had expected. The landscape is nothing like what I had imagined. It´s a grey-brown desert, with a long never-ending road, the altiplano further away and the mountains even further. What a surprise, I loved it! I got out of the airport in the middle of nowhere. El Calafate is 20 Kms away. Nothing in between.

I got in my hotel room and discovered I had a huge window looking on Lago Argentino. Green and very agitated from the strong wind. I started writing and didn´t turn the lights on until I couldn´t see anything anymore. It was too beautiful to spoil it.

Argentina, day 2 - Tierra del Fuego

A beautiful beginning of the day this morning in Ushuaia. Breakfast at the panoramic room of the hotel Alto Andino. For about five minutes I had it all to myself. Memories of mornings in Lulea and Mallaig came back to me. "End of the world" places in different latitudes.

At the End of the World train station, ticket controllers ask almost everyone where they are from. "From Greece", I said. My answer immobilised them for two seconds. Then a huge smile and they rushed to get me a leaflet in greek. I felt like a rare species. Nice, welcoming people.

I think it is since I left Greece that I hadn´t seen so beautiful, intense autumn colours. It used to be my favourite time of the year there. Yellow, red, brown, green. The trees grow up to a certain altitute. Then the mountains get bare and white with snow. The contrast is amazing. We are surrounded by them.

It is never summer here. In fact, for our standards, it´s always winter. But the sea makes it milder. The Yamanas used to live here naked. Mothers used to wash their newborns in the cold water, to get them used to it. Too much trouble with all the rain and snow to be worried about wearing soaked clothes, say the specialists. So they lit fires, also on their canoes, to keep warm. Thus giving this land its name. The missionaries thought they should get dressed. That´s how they finished them off.

I had a great lunch at the café Aldino Gourmet, the most tasteful minestrone I´ve ever had (or is it that I am too happy to be here...?).

Then an afternoon cruise in the Beagle canal. A small whale made its appearance, quite rare here; then royal cormorans and sea lions put up with us while they were trying to have a siesta on their rocky islands.

Back to Ushuaia, I took a walk in the busy San Martin Street. This is where all the shops and restaurants are. Lots, lots of people, it feels very alive. Here also one sees lots of old cars, many with dark windows...

Dinner at the Bodegón Fueguino, a cosy place. Cordero a la mostaza with mushed sweet potatoes and good latin-american music to go with it. The owner insisted that I had all my food because it´s an excellent aphrodisiac... I didn´t dare to ask any questions.

The last song before I left was of Caetano Veloso, who "cantando mandou a tristeza embora." Or is it that I am too happy to be here...?

Argentina, day 1 1/2

Most of it spent in the air. It didn´t seem real that I was in the queue for Buenos Aires. Looking around me, among the dozens of people of all ages also waiting to board, there were some faces that confirmed, more than others, my destination: darker, small eyes, high cheekbones, large and flat noses. I am heading to their land.

During the 11-hour trip, I was always somewhere between being awake and sleeping, at the point of not knowing if some things really happened or were just a dream. But it wasn´t a dream when at one moment I woke up, looked outside my window and saw a beautiful moon and a huge, dark, blue and silver ocean. I was actually crossing it.

Arriving to the big capital, moving from one airport to the other, nothing looked distinctive. On my left, poor two to three-floor constructions, lots of electricity cables hanging between them, huge outdoor advertisments. Like arriving to Athens by coach. On the left, tall box-like blocks of flats, desperately needing to be cleaned and painted. An image I hold from Sofia or Bucarest of the early 80s.

On the way from Ezeiza to J.Newbury airport, I see lots of old cars circulating in the road. It´s been a long time I hadn´t seen some of those models. Most of them have dark windows. I associate dark windows to rich people, the mafia or secret police. The cars are old and so many that I can´t reach any conclusion. I must remember to ask.

I didn´t have the courage to read the “Nunca más” report before I left. I´ll do it when I´ll get back. But I did finish “Open veins of Latin America”, by uruguaian Eduardo Galeano. I had started it when I booked my airplane ticket, decided to finish it on the way. It makes you feel you are walking on a raped land. It´s one of those books that make you feel totally impotent, even an accomplice.

I waited for seven hours in Buenos Aires before taking my next flight. It finished me off. And then a three-hour flight to the world under... I was 11 years old when I first told myself I would one day come to the Tierra del Fuego. At that age, I didn´t think it would be a cold place, the name promised warmth and passion. Ushuaia really looks like an “end of the world” place; they are my favourites. The cold wind when I stepped out of the airport took all my tiredness away, it revived me. I would like to join the Ushuaians in their Holy Friday walk. I can´t believe I am actually here...

The journey

"Own just what you can carry with you; get to know languages, get to know countries, get to know people. Let you memory be your travel bag." Alexander Soljenitsyn

Almost on my way.

Ivanov

"Let your intelligence rest. Everything is so simple. The ceiling is white, the boots are black and the sugar is sweet. It´s so simple".

They laughed... I hate it when audiences laugh at the wrong moment. Or was it me that didn´t get the joke? That felt how dramatic such a statement can be...?

Fear

It´s sometimes there to protect us. Thus, overcoming it is not a sign of intelligence or bravery.

Crossroad

Suddenly, a feeling of joy invades us. The reason is small, tiny. It leaves us puzzled, scared. How did this happen? What are we supposed to do about it?

We can let it carry us, for a while, for as long as it might last.

("But think of the price you´ll have to pay.")

Or we can try to control it, protect ourselves from it.

("But are you seriously going to throw away this chance?")

It used to be easy.