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.