To say it was blowing a gale the day I visited the small town of Carmelo would be understated. The Uruguayan flag mounted at the ferry dock stood horizontal to attention as the wind lashed the sandy shore and I sipped a glass of artisanal vino tinto. Unhelmeted locals zipped through the deserted streets and albeit lovely I wondered why exactly I was there.
The day before I had arrived in the town of Colonia de Sacrimento after a short ferry ride and despite my sickly state the prospect of a nice cold beer was strangely appealing - or maybe it was the offer of a beer with a handsome young Uruguayan that appealed!
After a much needed 11 hour siesta I set off the explore the small town which featured not much more than picturesque 1730´s cobblestone streets and a distant view of Buenos Aires from the top of the town lighthouse.
As I headed back it was if the tempest winds had expelled the neboulous weather far the from Uruguayan coastline. I gazed accross the fields of grazing cattle and horses, the sky now clear and azul and the late afternoon sun seeping through the wooded countryside; warming me through the bus window.
I was feeling much in need of a new junket so I set off for a fleeting night in Montevideo before I headed to the interior, estancia bound, to find myself a gaucho!
El Silencio is a working estancia about 200km North East of Montevideo, I arrived on a perfect autumn day. Thankful to be out of the city and keen for a new experience, what I wasn´t quite prepared for however was being completely immersed in the Spanish language. It was quickly apparent that my time in Argentina would have been much more wisely spent practising and improving my Spanish rather than the development of my wine and ice-cream palate.
There were seven other guests on the estancia, a family from Montevideo who visit every Easter and a family from the nearby town of Durazno. To my relief the beautiful young Monserrat spoke English, much to the frustration of her handsome but broody boyfriend and I managed my own version of Spanglish with the other guests.
My afternoon was spent in my own little piece of heaven; a light breeze whistled through the tree I lay under, the scent of grass and manure with the faint waft of a smouldering fire filled the air and I could hear the incessant chatter of parrots as they flew between the Eucalypt gums.
I awoke the next day feeling rested and ready to take the bull by the horns....well the cow by the udder actually. As it turns out you don´t need to speak the same language to find the comedy in milking a cow, our first activity of the day!
The second and equally glorious day I spent in the life of a gaucho was squandered riverside; horse-riding, fishing with homemade bamboo rods, an asado lunch, exploring the property and canoeing on the calm sparkling water. As sundown approached I shared Mate with new friends and watched fish jump out of the water creating rippling circles in the calm reflective surface as birds with bright yellow bellies soared from one side of the river to another.
We walked back to the house as the sun dropped off the edge of the earth like a balloon floating off a table and the sky remained brilliant shades of orange and pink. Dusk lingered, slowly the first few of a galaxy of stars began to appear and after much anticipation the gigantic orange moon rose from the horizon.
The next morning brought a perfect ending to my estancia experience, a magnificant sunrise. The morning rays pushed boldly through the dark storm clouds that filled the sky, by breakfast the rain had set in and I was ready to board my bus back to Montevideo.
On my last day in Uruguay I was greeted with a thick slate sky and drizzle, nethertheless I trundled off to check out Old Town and the bayside area. The city itself was unimpressive but not without some interesting architecture and to my delight a decent bookshop. As the day came to an end it was reminicent of the quintessential Melbourne weather of four seasons in one day as the sky had cleared and the sun again shone brightly.
Whilst my visit was brief, Uruguay is a beautiful country and with its Eucalypt gums and Melbournian climate it reminded me very much of Australia and stirred within me the slight pang of homesickness.
Totes pumped for my next destination though, an addition to the originial itinerary, Columbia, where I will meet up again with Trudy and Alex to take on Ciudad Perdida - The Lost City.
Going from Mendoza to Buenos Aires was like going from taking a leisurely stroll to sprinting a marathon. The city is green; tree lined streets, garden squares and open parks dominate the intense and bustling hive of late-night steak dinners and all night clubs.
I arrived early on a Sunday morning, not a soul stirred at the urbane hostel as I was warmly greeted by one of the numerous handsome male Argentine staff. Sun suffused the rooftop terrace, guests slept late in recovery from their all night partying and I contemplated which of the many activities and sights on offer I would tackle first.
A day of antique markets, impromptu street Tango and empanadas ensued and as the evening progressed it became apparent that the night was in fact only beginning. Around midnight my BA nightlife experience kicked off as we arrived at a nearby electro club, I was stone cold sober and everyone else was just stoned...well high actually. For the first hour I watched the throngs of inebriated revellers rock out the same dance move for every track and wondered WTF was I doing there, for the first time in a long time (possibly ever) I felt OLD!
There was only one thing to do - vodka shots. After several I began to embrace the atmostphere and my new American friend Laura and I found our own entertainment in roaming the dance floor perimeter in pursuit of our ¨mission¨ for the evening.
My post Antarctic boat belly had not quite subsided, mainly due to Malbec and ice-cream no doubt so I decided to pull an "Eat Pray Love" and just buy bigger pants. In my pre-nomadic era I was enthralled by frock and shoe shopping, circa now I am excited by trekking packs, headlamps and foil blankets. I set off to Florida Street, BA´s answer to downtown shopping; a few hours and a lot of Pesos later my new pantelones (as well as my other half dozen purchases) and I headed back to the hostel to prepare for Monday night out on the town.
Little known to me, Monday night in BA is "La Bomba de Tiempo", a night of rhythm drumming and an extempore jam session that is teeming with locals and tourists enjoying their litre capacity plastic cups of beer, the music and the various cookies and cakes available to buy out front before you go inside. By BA nightlife standards La Bomba finished early and as we filed out front in search of the cookie and cake vendors it appeared they had already been found - by the police! Hearded, they all sat despondent as their clientele dispersed and we disappeared around a corner towards the faint sound of more drumming. Within minutes a musical procession had started and we followed dancing in the street, after a few blocks a bus party was announced and everyone crammed onto the bus, cavorted and reverberated into the unknown, no idea where we were going and having too much fun to care!
After a couple of days and nights that felt like I was running at warp speed I welcomed an intermission to the hoopla of BA nightlife and managed a quiet evening followed by a visit to the Recoleta Cemetary, an eerie mix of both lavish and derelict mausoleums and a place that was interestingly beautiful and haunting at the same time.
Despite my predominantly vegetarian status, not experiencing an Argentine steak seemed wrong, if not just downright rude, so accompanied by a couple of friends from my Antarctic trip we punched in at a BA institution so popular there is two of them on the same street - La Cabrera. Having dinner before 9pm in Argentina is considered outrageous and you are likely to be deemed somewhat of a loser; we in fact felt like the winners as we tucked into our half price A-grade steaks, roble Malbec and plethora of side dishes. Take a tip from the tourists and eat early at La Cabrera, its half price! A few quiet drinks followed our steak feasts, as did the end of the BA sunshine as rain and thunderstorms hit the city.
In some ways all too soon and in others a welcome end to another city jaunt, my last night in BA had arrived. Clayton, Clevs and I had a bottle of Chivas that I had lugged from Ushuaia, via Mendoza that was begging to be drank. At this point I note: I don´t drink whiskey and I don´t particularly like whiskey. Neither of these two facts relevant though as I downed copious amounts of whiskey and lemonade and feasted on sausage (yes I usually don´t eat meat!), priming myself for the entertainment of the evening - Tango!
Following a dash of Tango at Cafe Tortoni we moved on in search of more fun, after hauling through a deserted Florida Street and meandering around Palermo the night climaxed on a balcony overlooking Avenida de Mayo close to sunrise.
Needless to say the next day, or in fact just a few hours later when I had to check out, I was one hungover chica, in desperate need of coffee, empanadas or anything that would extinguish the pit of seedyness I was enduring from too much fun on my last night in BA.
As I concluded the Argentine leg of my adventure and departed BA on a ferry bound for Uruguay there was a little spark in my heart left poignantly wistful.....
I am always excited when traveling to a new place or moving onto my next destination, sometimes to the point where I feel nauseous in excitement and anticipation for the unknown which lies ahead. As I left the hostel today the same sensation rose within although this time it was accompanied with a tinge of melancholy as I parted ways with Kerry, my companion for the past two weeks and one of the new friends I met during my Antarctic adventure.
Our time together was a furor of laughter and conversation; crackers, wine, cycling, bus rides, hostel schlepping, ice-cream sampling, self catering, 8 minute workouts, bug bites and shared stories. Finding a great travel partner is a challenge, similar interests and a good sense of humor are key; a person you can just be yourself around, enjoy adventures (good or bad) and have a laugh with. I am already looking forward to catching up with Kerry (and Greg) further North in the months to come.
After several days in which our itinerary centered heavily around wine we decided to mix it up and head North towards Parque Provincial Ischugualasto. Mountain ranges and a valley of sand and rock makes up the 200 million year old ¨Valle de la Luna¨, a dinosaur graveyard and an arid panorama of moonscapes and unusual rock formations.
As you do for any new adventure we set out enthusiastically for the small town of San Agustin where we would spend the night before our visit to the park. The following morning however, after the 6 hour bus ride and a night of bed bugs, sex noises (not our own) and mosquitoes in a dorm that resembled a cell, our enthusiasm had waned.
Whilst we enjoyed our Triassic experience the prospect of another night sleeping (or not) with the light on, under a veil of bug spray and netting wasn't very appealing so we fled with what skin we had left, back the the refuge of wine and ice-cream bestowed by the lovely city of Mendoza.
My stint in Malbec territory wasn't complete frivolity, I did manage to firm up some travel plans for the months ahead, the next stop continues my Argentinian tour with a jaunt in the cosmopolitan and Tango infused capital of Buenos Aires.
As I woke from my semi-cama slumber and pulled the curtain from the window, rows and rows of vineyards saluted me as the bright dawn sun permeated their foliage. Relieved to be more northerly and returned to a more temperate climate I wasn't far from my destination of Mendoza. After a sweaty few hours of traipsing the Avenidas of Buenos Aires the day before I boarded what can only be described as opulent transportation; in comparison to my Costa Rican bus experience that is. Argentinian buses are superb, I boarded and relaxed in my reclining plush seat whilst I was treated to MTV and DVDs, dinner and a very civilized game of Bingo! Better than a lot of the hostels I have stayed at and I wake up in my next destination - Win Win!
I met up with Kerry on arrival and announced the business, the very serious business of the day - salon time. After over three months traveling my hair resembled a brassy limp mop that I could no longer tolerate so we set off in search of a hairdresser, one that spoke English preferably. Two and a half hours later Haisley (a Brit expat) had worked his magic and I felt like a new woman, it was now time to address the remainder of the business of the day... Wine.
The following two days in Mendoza were dedicated to pursuits related to bicycles and bodegas. On Day 1 we ventured to Maipu and disappointingly, seven hours later it was the bicycles that had won over the wine, the experience mostly an ordeal; of roadworks, dust, fumes, broken chains, stacks, police escorts, and ogling, with the end result being super sore asses and sobriety. Bicycles - 1, Wine - 0.
Thankfully Day 2 brought victory for the wine as we gingerly mounted bicycles again, this time in a much nicer area called Lujan where the streets were tree lined, the roads paved and the bodegas plentiful with delicious Torrentes and Malbec.
Argentina wholeheartedly embraces "siesta" on a daily basis, almost everything closes down after lunch until early evening and Sundays possess a vintage quality which reminds me of when I was growing up, where Sundays really were the day of rest. A day spent with family and friends, of barbecues and lazy afternoons in the park, neighborhood games of cricket and going to buy lollies with 50 cents in one and two cent coins, to the only shop open - the corner milk bar. Our Sunday was spent doing much of nothing, a walk through the streets and park, an ice-cream (OMG super dulce de leche ice-cream is the BOMB!) and wandering the stalls that were selling jewelry and handicrafts. Argentinian Sundays are my kind of Sundays!
Given my lack of dedication to "Operation Boat Belly" since my arrival in Mendoza I set off this morning to Cerros Arenales, a 3300 meter high mountain in the desert landscape of Cordon del Plata. The summit bestowed upon us a view over Dique Potrerillos that was well worth the two and a half hour uphill trek, as we ate lunch six Condors entertained us as they glided overhead and we then made our way back down parallel to a bubbling freshwater stream that guided us to the bottom.
Tomorrow will bring a day of Travelers Admin; washing, bus bookings, Skype calls and the like as Kerry and I plan our next move. No doubt we will manage to squeeze in another bottle or two of Malbec....it would be rude not to!!
